Crush
by fairygypsy
Summary: A prince must rescue his best friend, a mysterious gypsy girl, from a familiar enchantment with a wicked twist. Kiss her to wake her up. Easy. Right? Not when the last time he tried to do so, she did all but actually kill him. Finished!
1. Default Chapter

            Once upon a time there was a prince.  He was a happy, carefree spirit that would like nothing more than to never grow up.  He lived in a magnificent castle surrounded by a tiny, tidy village, surrounded by a great, majestic forest.  

            One day this Prince, astride his favorite horse, Wilson, set out in search of an adventure.  He rode through the village and found nothing but happy and content villagers.  From shop to shop he searched, inquiring of all, "Are you in need of any princely services?"  to which they would all reply, "NO your highness you and your family are so kind and great, we need for nothing."  To which he would ask, "No dragons?  No thieves?  No rabbits in the gardens?"  To which they answered, "No, no, no," with big smiles and hearts full of pride for their thoughtful prince.  

            He rode, atop Wilson, into the forest.  Praying with all his might for an adventure of some sort, any sort.  But, on the edge of the forest, instead of an adventure, he found a small, wild cottage.  Leaving Wilson a suitable, safe distance from the hidden house, he warily approached it.  He looked in the small windows bordered by flowers and vines and called out for some occupant.  There was no answer.  Softly then louder he knocked on the small wooden door bordered by flowers and vines and called for some presence.  There was no answer.  Carefully and tentatively he turned the small brass doorknob.  The door opened with not a squeak and he entered.  Sunlight flooded through the tiny windows and open door onto a quaint and cozy home.  The walls were a soft comfortable white and the furniture a well-worn wood with nicks and dents here and there.  Bright tasseled blankets of reds, oranges and blues hung carelessly over the backs of chairs.  The Prince was instantly charmed by it.  There was a small fireplace, a kitchen table, and one single door besides the front door.  Leading to the bedroom thought the prince.  Curious as to whether the other room was as charming as this one, the prince stepped into its doorway.  But he got no further. 

            "You are trespassing.  Who are you to just walk into someone else's house!  Please leave."

            Slowly turning to face the owner of the cottage he thought that he might of inadvertently stumbled upon a small adventure.  And when he saw her, for a she it was indeed, he knew that he had.  

            She was a gypsy.  Her long dark hair hung loosely in curls around her shoulders and down her back.  Her dark eyes flashed in warning to the stranger in her home, and strong defiant form was clothed in flowing skirts of vibrant blues and greens.  A soft gold scarf was wound like a headband over her hair.  He had thought that there were no more gypsies in these parts, that they had settled down or moved on centuries ago.  They had always been the things of fairytales.  And now here in front of him had to be… to be… to be a gypsy princess!  The prince was spellbound.  He could do nothing but stare. 

            "Are you mute?  Or just dumb?" asked the fiery tempered gypsy, bringing the prince out of his stupor.  

            "I… I'm sorry.  I didn't know this place belonged to anybody.  The door was open and… I'm sorry.  I'll just leave."  But he wanted nothing more than to stay.  He knew she had put some spell over him, but he didn't care. _Here is an adventure more enjoyable than any I could of thought of before_ he thought, gazing into her dark eyes. 

            His constant stare unnerved her.  Why did he look at her that way?  Who was he?  She had never seen anyone so handsome.  His skin was dark and his eyes like the night.  His black hair curled tightly around his neck and loosely over his forehead.  His clothes were finer than any she had ever seen and she knew by the way he stood that he could not be a simple thief, and by his eyes that he was not as she had falsely accused him, mute or dumb.  She stopped him as he walked past her, mumbling his apologies.  "Wait, no.  May I ask who it is who has entered my house?"

            "Prince Jon," said he, a little bewildered that she didn't know him.  

            "Prince Jon!?  Do you think that just because you are the prince, that entitles you to enter anybody and everybody's house while they are away?"

            "No.  Of course not."

            "Well then why just mine?"

            "Listen, I've apologized.  I didn't know this cottage was inhabited.  Just let me leave."  He was growing angry with the impertinent little gypsy girl.  He stalked out the door and over to Wilson, who had been patiently waiting the whole time.  "Hey there boy," he whispered to the horse, "how come all the beautiful ones are impossibly horribly mannered?"  But he was soon to realize, he had spoke too soon.

            "Wait!"  It was the gypsy girl.  She was running out the cottage door toward him, colorful skirts flowing past her legs, hair trailing behind her in dark waves.  Stopping right in front of him, _almost close enough to lean over and steal a kiss_, thought the prince, she spoke.  "I'm sorry for yelling at you.  But you must realize what a shock it was to come home and find a strange man in my house.  I… I would like to be friends."  Her confident gaze faltered and dropped to the forest floor.  The prince stood looking at the curls that fell over her shoulders and in front of her face.  He wanted to touch one, but didn't, for how princely would that be?  Instead, he stuck out his hand.  

            "Truce?"  he asked, a genuine grin spreading over his face.  "I've always wanted a gypsy for a friend now that I think about it."

            Looking up and finding the prince smiling, the gypsy smiled back.  "Truce."  Then, unexpectedly, her eyebrows knit together and a cloud passed over her features.  "wait a minute… gypsy?"

II

            Disguised in his dirtiest clothes, the prince sat amongst his subjects.  Just like them, he was a prisoner.  He could not move a muscle.  He was caught in a trance that he had no desire to break, a spell that he fully wished to be kept under forever.   He sat still as the story teller weaved her magic into the very souls of her listeners.  He was with Alli Baba as he came upon the forty thieves and whispered, "open sesame!", he made friends with Aladdin's genie, he kissed awake the sleeping beauty, and watched an enchanted beast turn back to man by loves kiss.  The storyteller's voice, smooth and uninterrupted cast them all under a deep and wonderful enchantment, and they were content.  

            Then the voice gave way to silence.  No, to the busy sounds of a small village at noontime, the hustle and bustle of everyday life, the creak of wagon carts, the wail of babies.  The prince shook the dreamy mist from his mind as the others stood and left, leaving the silent story teller to sit in an exhausted heap, eyes closed, heart beating wildly, small smile on her tired lips.  He stood and took the few steps that it took to get to her side.  He sat quietly at her feet and stared at her closed eyelids till they slowly drifted open, revealing sparkling dark pools that told him not to speak, not to break the moment.  And he knew this before she told him with her eyes.  He knew the moment she had created was a magical one, not to be broken by ordinary words.  Standing, they walked side by side into the forest.  Sunlight spilled through the rich green canopy overhead and created an atmosphere purely golden, wonderfully pure.  Coming to the end of the forest, they entered a small cottage that was situated perfectly, nestled really, into the thickening trees.   Both took a seat inside, flopping down onto the wooden chairs and colorful blankets the prince had observed on his first entry into the cozy abode.  

            "So?" asked the storyteller, finally breaking the comfortable silence between them, "How was I?"

            "Gypsy, you are the most wonderfully magical person I know.  I thought all magic had left this world till I watched… listened to you today."  She smiled shyly at this compliment, blushing so hard she covered her face to hide it.  

            She was not actually a gypsy.  She was nothing more special than a peasant girl who told stories to young and old alike for whatever little money they might give her.  But the prince did not see it this way.  Elaine the storyteller had been his joy in life ever since he had trespassed in her cottage many months ago looking for adventure.  She was full of magic and hope and faith and all manner of things that he had given up as dead when he realized as a young boy that fairy tales were just lies.  

            He never called her Elaine.  No, it was always gypsy.  

            "But Prince Jon, you looked bored stiff all day long."

            "Then you definitely were not looking at me!  I assure you, you had me completely mesmerized the whole time.  I swear I was the hero of every story!  I felt the sand of Arabia across my skin and the tingling of magic upon sleeping beauty's lips.  You, my dear gypsy friend, are a magnificent storyteller.  And I never lie.  So you must believe it."  

            "Ha!  I'm sure you've lied in your life time you rogue of a prince!"

            "Ah, but not to you."  His voice softened and so did hers with her reply.

            "No, never to me."  They sat in thoughtful silence, neither able to muster up enough courage to look at the other.  They were always companionable and friendly, and their banter and conversations were natural and easy, but there were often unexplainable moments of discomfort between them.  There were moments when the one could not look the other in the eye, when tension between them was so strong as to electrocute one or both of them if they so much as glanced at the other.  And so they bore these moments out.  Often when this happened, Elaine would stand up and busy herself tidying up the cottage, or the prince would stride purposefully out the door.  Eventually, she would follow him, finding him petting Wilson, gazing up at the cloud or star strewn sky.  "Leaving?"  she would ask.  To which he would reply with another question, "Do you want me to?"  and then yet another question from her, "Do you want to?" And then they would break out into sincere jovial laughter, one dark sparkling eye meeting another, and all would be back to as it was before.  

            But this time was different.  Something of the magic from Elaine's stories had settled into the prince's heart and he could keep silent no longer. "Gypsy?"  she made no answer, but looked up at the prince, locking her own gaze into his.  There was something in her eyes, on the set of her lips and brows; something fierce and pleading all at once.  "Would you like to learn to ride a horse?" he said, abruptly changing the question that had settled on his lips and on his mind.  Now he pushed it back, afraid of what her look had meant.  Had she known what he was about to say?  Of course she had.  She and he were like one, knowing even before the other what they were about to do or say.  She had known and hadn't wanted him to say it.  He pushed his disappointment back, convincing himself that he was content with the taut unspoken tension.  He may not be good at lying to the peasant girl, but he was amazing at lying to himself.  

III

            Elaine frowned.  He was so effortless up there, so graceful.  Bringing Wilson to a smooth halt the Prince suavely dismounted the horse and stood standing, grinning proudly at his student… who was wearing quite a frightening glare upon her usually happy features.  "How do you make it look so easy?"  she asked.

            "Because I've been riding since before I could walk.  You've only been at it a month.  You'll get better.  Now, here, let me put you up on Wilson." He held his hand out to her and she took it.  Knitting her brows together in fierce determination she mounted the horse, taking tight hold of the reins. "Relax Elaine.  He can feel it when a rider is tense.  It discomforts him."

            "Well he discomforts me!"  she snapped back at him fiercely.  Making a visible attempt to relax, for the horses sake, Elaine took off at a soft trot out into the riding fields by the castle.  As she grew more confident in the skill of the horse, she let her mind drift away from beast, field, and time.  Instead she settled her thoughts on the words of her trainer. 'relax Elaine' he had said.  Elaine.  It still sounded strange coming from his lips, hearing her name in his voice.  Even when she had introduced herself as Elaine Bennet, he had not said her name.  No, to him she had always been Gypsy.  

            But he hadn't called her that since the day he had come to listen to her stories in the village.  She remembered the day.  There had been silence, that sparking tension so common between the friends, and then he had said her name.  Gypsy.  One word, but from it she could hear all that he had not yet said.  And she knew she could not let it be said.  They were too good of friends, he was a prince, she a peasant; oh there were many reasons she could give for stopping the words that were about to come from him that day.  Fear.  That was the real reason… fear.  And ever since she showed him her fear in her gaze, ever since she pleaded him with her eyes to remain silent, he had called her Elaine.  Nothing had changed but that, but that had changed everything.  

            She was broke from her reverie by the wind whipping her hair across her face and the jarring shocks that the running horse sent through her body.  She became alert, attempted to settle down the obviously startled animal, and bring the ever increasing run to a halt.  But she could not.  Wilson ran ever faster and faster, farther and farther, ever more wild and out of control.  Elaine could not understand just what had affected him so.  But she obviously could not think of what had started it at the moment for all of her powers of thought were on how to get the animal to stop!  She dug her heels into its flanks, pulled back on it's reins, it's mane, just plain pulled back! Only to thwarted in all her attempts.  

            The fence.  The fact that there was a stone barrier looming ahead, comforted Elaine.  Wilson would stop, obviously.  He could not, would not jump that fence.  There was nothing to worry about.  But Wilson did not slow down and the stone fence grew larger and larger on the horizon.  She realized that she had not reached the point in her lessons when the prince was going to teach her to jump.  For jump was exactly what the horse was going to do.  The Prince!  Where was he!  What was he doing while she was being carried away by his wayward horse.  

            But all ponderings on the prince were lost as the stone wall disappeared underneath her and she clung to Wilson's mane for dear life.  Only when she felt the jarring landing did she open her eyes to see now the forest coming into view.  Her stomach dropped as she spied low hanging branches.  She was going to die; beheaded by a tree!  All because of a stupid, wretched horse!

            The stupid, wretched horse stopped.  With only a few feet between itself and a low hanging branch.  It's stop was so sudden that it was almost as shocking as it's start.  Elaine heaved a great sigh of relief, slightly loosening her grip on the reins that had turned her fingers stiff and white.  

            But it was all too soon, for within an instant of his stop, he had turned himself around and was charging once more, just as fiercely toward that horrid stone wall!  Closing her eyes, once more, and tightly gripping the reins, once more, she screamed a scream of frustration that disturbed animals for miles yet did not even phase Wilson.  That siren scream lasted till Wilson landed his second jump over the low stone wall, and losing her hold, Elaine toppled off the possessed animal and crashed into the hard earth.  

            This is the scene that prince Jon was witness to as he came charging hurriedly after his friend.  Having had only Wilson with him in the riding fields, he had had to go back to the stables to get another horse to chase after his wayward animal friend and its rider.  The horse and rider had been doing excellent, the prince enjoying the picture they created , until for no seeable reason Wilson had started to gallop.  The prince thought that maybe Elaine was being brave, bringing the horse to more than a gentle trot.  But he soon realized that this was not the case when she started wrestling with the out of control animal to stop.  And the horse ran faster and faster heedless of its panicked rider.  

            Now the prince was panicked.  Stooping beside the fallen peasant girl, he called her name.  "Elaine, Elaine!  Are you all right?"  Elaine heard him but did not reply.  It was a stupid question, of course she was not all right!  She had just fallen from a lunatic horse!

            "Yes, I'm fine," she mumbled.  

            "Don't move.  Your back could be broke or… or something else.  Don't move.  Just… just lay there ok."

            "Would you stop ranting!  Besides having the breath knocked out of me, I'm absolutely fine.  Now help me sit up."  She hadn't wanted to ask him even this small favor, but she wasn't exactly feeling as fine as she protested she was.  Putting one hand behind her head and the other on the small of her back, he brought her to a sitting position.  It had been painful, to move, but she assumed pain was better than no feeling at all after falling off a horse.  Opening her eyes, which she had closed at the outset of her up rightening, she found herself incredibly close to the worried expression on the prince's face.  

            The prince had no desire to gaze deeply into the peasant girl's eyes, instead he moved around behind her, sat down, and leaned her against his chest.  Though this position was hardly any better, he knew that she needed something to lean against, and he was scared to move her to the stone wall.  So there they sat.  The peasant girl would of liked to move, but wasn't sure she could stand just yet, and besides, it was quite nice.  When she realized that she was tempting herself with things that could never be she moved to stand.  But couldn't.  She had moved so quickly that the prince had not the time to stop her.  But she was stopped so abruptly that the prince had not the time to move out of the way, and Elaine, with a sharp cry of pain, came from a full standing position to a fallen heap on top of the prince.  

            "Oof!  What do you think your doing woman?!"  he cried in aggravation, as much at his being squashed as at the prospect of her being horribly injured.  He lay the peasant girl gently in the grass beside him and looked down at her dark eyes brimming with tears.  

            "My leg." She whispered.  Cautiously and respectfully, Prince Jon grabbed the hem of Elaine's dark skirt.  A skirt that he now realized was heavy and darker with blood.  He touched the slowly spreading wet stain and pulled back fingertips dyed a deep red and his heart died in his chest.  He pulled the skirt up just enough to expose broken skin and jagged bone pushing forth.  His face went pale and he wanted to throw up, but pushed it down and looked toward Elaine's own paling face.  

            "Elaine, keep your eyes closed for the moment.  Don't worry.  But, Elaine, you definitely are not fine."  She had obeyed him at first, keeping her eyes firmly shut as the newly realized pain shot through her body.  But his last comment was just too taunting.  Opening her eyes just a bit, she saw what she was never meant to see, her own bone and blood.  Understandably, she fainted.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The prince could not take her to the palace, could not bring her to the finest physicians available as he yearned to do.  She was but a peasant and he knew his parents would never approve of their friendship, believing that it might turn into something deeper.  What did they know? They did not know her, that was for sure.  If they did, they would know that there was no fear of her falling in love with him.  

            But what did it matter.  She might be dying.  No, he could not let himself think that.  He was certain that Damian would help him.  If no one else would, Damian would.  The prince thought this last thought as he approached a small house in the middle of the village.  Standing outside the front door, heedless of all the morbid watchers whose curiosity had led them to follow and watch their prince and his wounded cargo, Prince Jon bellowed at the top of his lungs, "DAMIAN!!!  DAMIAN I NEED YOU!!!"

            The door opened in an instant, revealing a man of middle age, with graying brown hair and mischievous eyes. "Boy!  What is the matter, don't you know it's only polite to knock.  Oh.  I see, bring her in, bring her in," and then to all the curious bystanders, "go away!  There's nothin' to see here!" and with a certain glazed look in his eye, he struck his words deep into the minds and hearts of every one of the men, women, and children who had seen the prince carrying Elaine down the street, "absolutely nothing was seen."  Then old Damian slammed shut his door on all.  

            "Now then," he said, turning to face the distraught prince and the unconscious form he held in his arms, "What's happened?"

            "It's her."  Said prince jon, looking down at Elaine.  "something happened to Wilson, I don't know, and she was on him, and she fell and…" he looked toward her leg, the darkened skirt. But old Damian had already seen it and was taking the young girl in his arms and laying her on his cleared kitchen table.  Respectfully lifting the skirt to expose the wound he motioned the prince to a a cabinet under the table.  

            "Open it.  Inside there's a red cloth.  Unfold it and lay it across her eyes lad.  She may be unconscious now but she won't be for long if we don't do something about it."

            "And the cloth, it will keep her asleep while you… while you…"  he asked, while unfolding the faded red cloth and laying it across her closed lids.

            "Yes dear boy, it will keep her asleep."  With those words, Damian stuck his hands into a bowl liquid with a blue tint.  The blue mystery salve dripping from his rough weathered, but steady hands, the stately man firmly grabbed hold of Elaine's leg.  Elaine was a tall and muscled girl, not at all a petite weak little creature, yet Damian's large hands completely covered the wound, pressing it tightly together.  The blue and red mingled together, blackening Damian's hands.  "Boy, turn around now.  You won't want to see what happens next," he said, his voice gentle yet commanding.  Obeying, Prince Jon turned around, focusing on a particularly interesting crack in the wall.  Damian sighed loudly, knowing what would come next, dreading it, knowing that though he might be able to save the prince from the sight of it, he'd never be able to save him from the sound of it.  Then, without another thought, he grabbed the bone, pushing it below skin and flesh, back into place, pushing all his energy into it, fusing the two broken pieces together again.  

            From the moment Damian pushed the bone back into place, an earth shattering scream pierced the air.  Damian barely heard it, so intense was he in mending the poor injured girl.  But Prince Jon, Prince Jon heard it, and when he did, he could no longer face the wall.  "My God!  Damian!  Elaine!"  he exclaimed as he turned around.  He was amazed at what he saw.  There seemed to be a blue light emanating from the old man, surrounding him.  But that was not what had arrested the prince's attention.  Damian's hand was inside Elaine's leg.  No, her leg was invisible, almost gone, and his hands were glowing blue veins all over.  

            But the prince did not spend much time debating over the strange spectacle.  The intense scream that shattered all quickly brought him to the side of the shrieking peasant girl.  Her back was arched, her head thrown back, her mouth open and contorted with the long held sound of agony.  The red cloth still covered her eyes but Prince Jon knew they were wide open; bright with fear and pain, wet with tears.  Running to the table, he stooped beside her, gently placing his hands on either side of her head and placing his lips close to her ears.  "Close your eyes.  Breath.  Ok.  Just breath and close your eyes.  It'll be alright.  I promise."  And with those words, the scream that had shattered silence for so many minutes dulled and ended.  A calm pain lingered on the peasant girls face as Damian came out of his trance and removed the red cloth from the girl's eyes.  Damian laid a hand on the still form of the prince who was knelt beside his still friend, face buried in her damp dark hair, hands still placed lightly on the sides of her face.  

            "She'll be fine.  Just fine."  Said the strong voice of Damian.  "But we should move her to a more comfortable place."  With that, he picked up the peasant girl as if she were a small child and placed her gently on a small bed in a small dark room in the back of his house.  The prince did not follow but quietly, with bowed head and clear mind, opened the front door to a day that he had forgotten.  A day that was bright, a day that was not part of the darkness of the house from which he stepped.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The room was dark and unfamiliar shadows crept across the walls.  Her half open eyes and still confused mind knew they were in unfamiliar territory.  She pushed aside the throbbing ache in her head and opened her eyes all the way.  

            Her leg.  Quickly, she threw back the heavy quilt that covered her and found that her clothes had been changed some time that night.  Or was it yesterday.  The room was dark and she couldn't tell what time of day or night it was.  But the one thing she was sure of as she threw back the crisp white skirt that she had been dressed in while she was unconscious, was that her leg was better.  Swiftly, she sat up, putting her cold bare feet on the wooden floor and standing.  With a  sharp intake of breath she fell back to the bed.  The piercing pain that had shot through her leg made standing impossible.  She would not cry.

            "It's ok to cry little one."  Came a voice from behind the shadows in the vacant doorway.  The voice was quickly followed by the tall form of a smiling man.  Elaine had seen this man before.  Several times.  He was often a visitor of her dreams, an imaginary mentor of sorts.  But it seemed as if he was real.  

            "You." _Well that was an incredibly stupid thing to say,_ thought Elaine.  

            But he only chuckled. "Yes my little wandering one.  You didn't think I existed did you.  Well here I am.  Your leg will still hurt for a while I'm afraid, but it will be better soon enough."  He sat beside the girl and made her feel as a small child with his sheer stature and presence.  She wanted to curl up and sleep on his lap as if she were again a little girl but did not, instead apting to ask the questions that plagued her mind.

            "How did I get here?  Where did you come from? How did you fix my leg?" She almost asked where the prince was, but then remembered that it shouldn't matter to her where he was.    "Who are you?"

            "Oh, my dear girl, you know me don't you.  I've been with you since you were a little girl.  When you lost your parents.  When you had to leave your grandmamma.  When you left the kingdom of Darwin and Libyana.  When you came here."

            "Yes, I do know you.  But… what is your name?  What is it I can call you?"  She asked, eager for any real clue to the identity of this dream man.

            "Well your friend, the prince, and the others here call me Damian.  So you may too."

            "Damian."  She said lightly. "And, Damian, how did I come to be here?  Was it by your magic?"  for she knew he had magic, if he could heal her leg and appear in her dreams, he was surely a wizard of some sort or another.  

            "No.  Not by my magic.  But by magic of a different sort."  She gave him a confused look and he answered her questioning gaze, "friendship."  

            "Friendship?" she asked.  Indeed, thought Damian, all this stress must have shut down her brain. "The young prince, young wanderer, the young prince.  He brought you here.  He left after he was sure you were going to be alright.  Distraught the boy was, distraught.  Don't know where the boy went.  But he sure didn't leave me any time to ask questions. So maybe you can help where he wouldn't.  Just how did you get that nasty injury yesterday?  And why did Prince Jon run off so quick."  

            "As to your last question I do not know.  Perhaps to tend to Wilson, his horse.  There was something very bad about that whole thing yesterday.  I do wonder what happened to that devil of a horse.  And as for my leg, well that has to do with that devil of a horse also." And with that she told him all that had happened yesterday.  "I have to go now Damian.  I have to.  I… I'm dying of curiosity, and… and" 

            She was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. "And you want to get home.  And see what the young prince is up to I suppose.  But you must move slowly.  Your leg is not yet fully healed.  And I ask one thing of you."

            "Yes?"

            "Wait till daylight?"  He opened the window to show that surely it was deep into the dark night.  He looked upon the peasant girls face to see that even nightfall could not deter her curious nature.  

            "But I'm sure even the prince does not sleep Damian.  Not with a mystery, an adventure afoot.  You can not ask it of me."  Her eyes pleaded with his and he found he could deny her nothing now that he knew her outside of the realm of dreams.  

            "Alright.  But you'll be slow getting anywhere.  You'll remember when you stood just a while ago."  And she did indeed remember.  For the pain, the ache, was still there.  She lifted up her skirt, to inspect the wound for the first time and found no mark, no betrayal of the injury that had happened just hours before.  She looked to the old comforter for an answer but found only a smile.  A small comforting smile. 

            "But how shall I walk if my leg is hurt so?"  At her question he stood up, took two steps to a corner of the room and from there took up a tall heavy, polished wooden staff.  

            "With this." He answered easily, putting the staff over her lap and into her hands.  Putting all her weight on the object, she stood.  She found that while she held the stick, the pain subsided almost to the point of total dissipation.  Finding this, she smiled at her healer and old friend, and took her first step.  

            "It's a bit stiff, and sore, and does pain me a bit." She said with a hint of a frown in her brow, "but I think I'll manage." She finished, wiping away all signs of any discomfort from her face with a large glittering smile.  "Thank you Damian."  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It was a night filled with the soft glow of moonlight.  All for miles around was crisp and clear to all who strove to see far enough, and on instinct Elaine traveled toward the palace and the training fields where she had last ridden the runaway horse. From a distance, she could hear the frantic hoof beats of the running beast.  It still ran.  As she came closer, she recognized the tall form of the prince at the gatepost.  Slowly she approached him, trying to hide from the bright light of the stars and moon overhead.  But she tripped and let loose a small sound of irritation.  

And he heard her.  He turned and saw there the peasant girl, leaning on a smooth polished staff and looking like a beam of moonlight in the simple white shift that Damian had dressed her in after her healing.  She wore a mischievous smile.  "Elaine!  What are you doing out of bed?  Are you ok?"

"Like you care.  Running off so quick." She teased him as he rushed to her side.  As he took both of her hands in his own she let loose a tiny shriek and fell toward him.  "The staff your highness, the staff," she gasped in pain as he righted her and handed her the wayward staff, hands strongly griping her shoulders. 

"You are not well.  What are you doing out here?  Why did Damian let you go.  I should of warned him about you."

Quickly gaining her composure and her breath back, she started a slow and careful walk to the pasture gate with the prince by her side.  "Warned him about me?  And what is it you would warn him about dear prince?"  

"Your stubbornness.  And your stupidity."

"Stupidity!"

"Yes, it was stupid of you to come back after not being fully healed."

"I'm not going to let you have all of the adventure prince. Oh no.  Not about to let you have all the fun."

"Who says this is an adventure?  Who says there's anything at all special about anything that has happened?" asked the prince as they reached the gate.  The peasant girl kept one hand firmly on her walking staff as she placed the other on the prince's arm and directed his attention to the galloping mad beast and the worn path of trodden mud.  

"Has he been running the whole time?" asked Elaine.

"Yes," said the prince.

"And how long has that been?"

"Oh, thirteen hours I think.  You've been asleep, ten to twelve hours.  I'm not sure.  I left.  I can't get him to stop.  I've tried everything.  It's like he's possessed.  He runs from one end of the field to the other, always stopping at the edge of the forest, never going in.  I don't see how he's lasted so long. He'll surely die of exhaustion before he stops."  Elaine felt sorry for her friend.  He had always been absurdly proud of his horse.  It was a constant companion to him.  She knew the horses demise would greatly hurt the Prince.  "Do you remember what happened to start him running so?"

"No.  I saw, felt, nothing.  One minute he was fine, the next he was running wildly.  I'm sorry prince Jon."

"It's not your fault.  But we have to figure out what happened.  Why.  Maybe I could mount him somehow.  Maybe he'll settle down with me."

"Maybe, maybe not.  We don't know.  And how would you get on him?  You might end up worse than me."

"What?  No faith?"  He raised an amused eyebrow at the peasant girl and she drew both her's together in worry.  

"No Prince.  It's just that I know I can't carry you all the way to Damian's like you did me."  Her free hand was now on her hip in a defensive stance and she stared him down, challenging him.  

"You can't?  Well then I guess that's just something I can do that you can't."

"I'm not joking with you my liege.  Don't do anything stupid."  She pleaded, laying her hand once again upon his arm.  But he put her hand back on the staff and jumped the fence.  From the other side, he gave her one last glance before running off at full speed toward his maddened horse.

Of course she could do naught else but follow after him, as best she could that is.  Watching him, only for an exasperating second, streak across the field toward Wilson, Elaine acted quickly. Only briefly did she suspiciously eye the royal horse before her.  The one that the prince had been using in Wilson's absence.  Still gripping tightly old Damian's staff, she mounted the horse as best she could and nudged it toward the prince and the running Wilson.  As she got closer she noticed the tired straggling steps of the possessed beast, the white foam flying from his mouth.  The horse was running too fast.  There was no way the Prince could catch and keep up with it long enough to mount it.  So she set her sights on the prince, and digging her heels into her horse more urgently, spurred him forward faster than she had ever _willingly_ rode a horse before.  

Catching up with the prince was easy.  Soon she had passed him and stopping directly in his path, was screaming her name with all her might.  

            Of course the prince saw the peasant girl, right in his path, blocking him from the running form of Wilson, atop a horse not less than a day after breaking her leg from a fall off a horse.  And he stopped his mad dash.  "What do you think you're doing!  You'll hurt yourself again!"

            "Ha! Me!  Prince Jon, you'll never catch up with Wilson running.  Jump up here with me."

            "What?"

            "Jump up here with me.  I'm supposing this horse can run as fast as Wilson.  We can catch up with him and you can jump from this horse to the other.  It's just as dangerous, but will actually work.  As opposed to your fool plan of running after the horse yourself!"  And he saw that she was right.  Without a word he jumped up onto the horse, behind Elaine and let her keep the reins.  As she took off at a break neck pace he roared in her ear above the wind, 

            "What would I do without you."  And it was a statement, not a question.

            "Either die a horrible death or become extremely tired and frustrated from running yourself into exhaustion."  Was her equally loud reply.  And he smiled a quick smile before eyeing the closely approaching runaway horse.    

            When they were near enough to see the dull glaze of exhaustion over the horse's eye, Prince Jon jumped.  And much to the peasant girl's relief, made the jump, landing safely, straddled across Wilson's wide back.   

            She sped after him, realizing quite quickly that if she was going to follow after the prince, which she most certainly was, then she was going to have to jump the same self fence that she had broken her leg over that very day.  Groaning and sending a quick prayer toward God, she held on tight, closed her eyes, and willed her horse to jump safely.  Only when all four galloping hooves were back on the ground did she breath again, sending up another quick prayer, this time of thanks.  As both prince and peasant girl approached the thick forest, they prepared to stop, turn, and begin the never ending path over again.  But as Elaine pulled back for a quick stop, she watched Wilson carry Prince Jon in the dense dark leaves of the wood.  Surprised, she followed him.  What else could she do?  Something was clearly wrong.  And although she felt this in the pit of her stomach, at the center of her heart and with every inch of her intuition, all the solid facts pointed toward treachery.  The Prince's horse runs wildly for no apparent reason in circles, never entering the forest on either side of the practice fields until the prince himself mounts the horse.   Then, calmly, Wilson bears his brave and stupid rider hence. It seemed as if someone was trying to get the prince's attention, or… the prince.  

            Elaine picked her way carefully toward the Wilson and Prince Jon, matching her horse's pace with his once she caught up with them.  "Something's wrong," she told him.  And for a reply, she received a grim look.  Then the Prince seemed to reconsider their seemingly grim situation and flashed his friend a look of pure confidence.    

            "Well, I've been seeking an adventure, have I not.  Who knew that if I just gave up looking, one would come find me."  But Elaine could not quite share his cheerful demeanor.  She was worried.  She had had plenty of adventures in her life, and wasn't so sure she liked them.  But, she told herself as she was always one to look on the bright side of things, I haven't yet had an adventure with the Prince.  Perhaps his adventures shall prove enjoyable.  Perhaps.  

            Prince Jon on the other hand was enjoying every step that the horses took them deeper into the forest.  Of course the shadows grew thicker and the noises grew more unfamiliar.  They rode their horses in silence, Elaine following the prince, or rather, Wilson, for Prince Jon was not leading at all, Wilson was in total control.  Prince Jon began to notice that the thick, unruly tangle of trees was beginning to thin out, to become patterned, almost orderly.  He slowed his horse, or rather, Wilson slowed down, and the peasant girl followed suit.  Then, as Elaine was about to break the silence, to suggest they go back, the horses stopped.  

            They stood, mounted on two stone still steeds, gazes locked straight ahead into an alleyway of trees taller and more ancient than any they had ever seen.  After a brief pause at the entrance to the massive oak tree hallway, with lush green boughs overhead for a gilded ceiling, the beasts again started their mechanical, controlled movement forward, never once pushed along by prince or peasant girl.  The hallway seemed never ending.  They passed tree after tree of gigantic proportions, tree after tree that was had surely been standing at the dawn of time.  

            Elaine began to discern a glittering, flickering light at the end of the seemingly endless tunnel.  Then the light grew more constant, more sure and bright.  And it grew nearer.  As surely as Wilson walked slowly, hoofs breaking and creaking over the blanket of golden fallen leaves that was the floor to this ephemeral hallway, so the light grew closer and more intense.  Then the golden light began to take form.  Slowly it contorted itself into the distorted, vague, and distant shape of a throne.  And as they drew nearer, the invisible shape of a woman appeared perched on the ever sharpening image of the golden throne.  

            Then they were standing right in front of it.  Right in front of her.  And she was beautiful.  Both prince and peasant girl could see, even as her outline remained dim, that she was the most beautiful woman in this or any other world.  As her image sharpened and came into clear view, they both held their breath, afraid to disturb one hair on her golden red head.  Her soft features ended in delicate points at her chin and nose tip.  Her lips were full and red and her sharp emerald eyes danced with mischief and sadness at once.  She was dressed simply but elegantly in deep green folds of silk tied with rope weaved of gold from the very heart of the earth.  The peasant girl became aware of her simple white shift, and her mass of uncombed, uncurled dark locks.  The Prince was aware of nothing but the beautiful angelic form in front of him and thanked the gods for every step that brought him closer to her.

            Then Wilson stopped, and so did Elaine's horse, and the woman's perfect lips parted, and she spoke.   "Wilson," she said, standing.  Her green robes trailed through the leaves without once disturbing or rustling even one as she walked lightly toward the now calm horse.  Reaching out and laying a white delicate hand lovingly on Wilson's neck, she lifted her gaze toward the prince and smiled.  "You have brought my love Wilson, you have brought my love."

            The prince, who had been smiling dumbly, enchanted, down at the woman heard her words and awoke, as if from a dream, his brow furrowing together, the curve of his smile undoing and straightening.  Breaking his gaze with the creature of perfection, he looked down at his horse.  There was something that he wasn't understanding, but he couldn't bring himself to speak in this place, to this woman.

            But the peasant girl understood.  The storyteller knew.  There was deep, ancient magic about this perfect woman.  It was so interwoven into time, place, and person that Elaine could barely keep her body from exploding in all directions at once.  Hearing the woman's words, seeing the confusion writ on the prince's face, seeing the tethered questions behind his eyes, Elaine strove to break the silence.  Risking what felt like being pulled apart by her very soul, she parted her lips and uttered one single word.  "What?"  And with that sole word, her bonds were broken, the pressure on her being released, and she could once again speak, and the words came quickly.  "Who are you?  Why have you brought us here?  And what do you mean by 'my love'?"  

            For the first time, the enchanting woman saw the peasant girl, for the first time, a look of something other than utter loveliness come over her face.  It was… disgust.  And the look did not become her.  It twisted her features and made them almost ugly.  But it only lasted for an instant, and only for the peasant girl.  For a second after that revealing instant, the enchantress once again turned her brilliant, captivating smile toward the prince.  "You do not wish to know the answers to these questions," she said more than asked him.  And he felt that he didn't.  But on some instinct, he turned his adoring gaze to his friend on horseback and found that indeed, he really truly did want to know the answers, and when he turned back to the woman he found that he still wanted them.  

            "I… I find I do want to know why you have brought my horse here."  And both women saw that the prince still did not understand.  

            The enchantress's sparkling laughter filled the oaken hallway echoed from green bower ceiling to golden leafed floor.  "It is not the horse I want dear lovely boy.  Your horse was merely a tool.  It is you I have sought to bring here.  You my dear lovely boy that I love dearly."  Elaine rolled her eyes at the woman's sweetly dripping speech and turned her dark steady gaze to the prince, whom she hoped wouldn't fall for the saccharine words.  And much to her relief, he seemed more disturbed than anything else.

            And indeed he was feeling a bit disturbed.  "I am very honored," he began, "that it is I you have chosen to love but-" but he was interrupted by his long haired companion.

            "But who are you?  You are not a wood spirit.  They all have golden hair.  You cannot be an evil spirit, for they cannot manipulate earth and nature as you obviously have here.  What are you?"

            Her face turned somber and turning around, she gracefully walked back to her golden throne and sat down.  None in the clearing spoke for what seemed an eternity filled with bone crushing silence.  But the peasant girl grew impatient, and as one woman senses another in that strange inexplicable way, the enchantress sensed the peasant girl's ire and spoke.  "I am a woman, nothing more. I am probably less by now, after centuries of waiting.  I was once a princess, the most beautiful over twelve kingdoms."  A small smile spread across her lips at the memory.  "  


	2. Crazy, thinking, knowin that the world i...

If anyone is actually reading my story, sorry about all the apostrophe mistakes.  I read through it again and was appalled by my poor usage.  All I can do is beg forgiveness and promise to do better in the future.  Um… I would love feedback on this.  Really, tell me what you think.  Good, bad, I don't care, just an honest opinion.  I won't cry, I'm tough.  Oh yeah, this is loosely, loosely based on all sorts of fairy tales.  But Elaine and Prince Jon are very much mine.  Thanks.

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Her face turned somber and turning around, she gracefully walked back to her golden throne and sat down.  None in the clearing spoke for what seemed an eternity filled with bone crushing silence.  But the peasant girl grew impatient, and as one woman senses another in that strange inexplicable way, the enchantress sensed the peasant girl's ire and spoke.  "I am a woman, nothing more. I am probably less by now, after centuries of waiting.  I was once a princess, the most beautiful over twelve kingdoms."  A small smile spread across her lips at the memory.  "When I was born, all who saw me, swore that now they truly knew there was a God.  For only he could of created something so perfect.  Every one loved me, everyone worshiped me.  But perfection comes with its consequences.  I felt everyone to be beneath me.  My parents, those that considered themselves my friends; one and all were nothing to me, who was all to everyone.  I could not love.  I would not love."  The hallway of trees echoed with each of her words.  They filled the air, hung on the branches, but turned to cold wind when leaving the magic of the place.  Elaine eyed the enchanted princess suspiciously.  Her words were so cold.  She had learned nothing from years of cursed enchantment; she still could not love.  Why then had she said she loved the prince. 

"Have you learned your lesson Princess?  Have you learned the fault of your ways during your years of enchanted existence?  Do you mean to tell me that after centuries of cold heartedness, you have finally learned to love, and that it is this stubborn, hard-headed, foolish boy here?"  Prince Jon couldn't be offended by the words.  He knew he was stubborn, and her words had had more admiration and amusement in them than contempt or scorn.  Elaine continued.  "And this is the man you have finally _learned_ to love over centuries of solitude?"

"This is the man I love." And her words were as cold as ice.  The word love as warm and caressing as stone.  "Come to me my love." Came the princess's silky voice.

And the Prince was left torn.  

The fiery red gold of the princess's hair illuminated the darkening forest.  It glittered, immaculate, perfect.  It would be so easy to step forward, to take her hand, to live in blissful solitude with this enchanted creature.  It was like a fairy story.  

His gypsy friend was fiery as well.  Her temper had flared into an intense anger.  Her eyes flashed lightening, and when the prince looked back to the princess, her hair dimmed in comparison to the glittering ire in Elaine's eyes.  Yes.  She was mad.  "I'm flattered." He began, "but… I… I can't." his gaze faltered.  He couldn't meet her frosty glare.  "I can't love you.  I can't stay with you.  But… but I'll help you.  Anything_" 

"No." interrupted the princess.  She said no more.  But sat, cool, impassive, emotionless.

"No?"  Elaine asked in disbelief.  

"You think you can keep him?  You?  A plain, simple nobody?  You" But she stopped.  She seemed to think, to turn something around in her mind.  "But we'll give you a chance."  

And where Elaine had once stood, she stood no longer.  

            The Prince was speechless, horrified, spellbound, as he realized his friend  no longer sat astride her horse.  The enchanted princess stood and walked, or floated rather, to the Prince's side.   She laughed as he turned his questioning gaze toward her.  Elaine was gone, the force, the anchor to reality that had broken the magic of this hall, had been jerked from this reality.  And he was alone, and the spell back upon him.  She took his hand and he could not pull away.  She led him to the throne then dropped his hand.  A small, crystal laugh spilled forth from her perfect lips and he fought the chains it was weaving around his senses.  She spoke.

            "You wonder where she is.  No harm has come to her.  But I've decided to play a game.  I've not yet forgotten how fun it is to play with people.

            _Play with people! _He thought.  But he could not say it.

            "You wish to stay here.  But you do not wish to stay here.  She is in your thoughts.  Where is she?  What has happened to her.  The question persists though I try to block it from your mind.  Is it that important?"  She looked to him yes received no answer.  She would let him give no answer; she didn't need one.  She knew his thoughts.  "Then you will have a chance to be with her.  To save her."  She was silent, reflective, then spoke, "I love only because I am cursed to do so.  I feel a longing for you, yet know that if it weren't for my enchantment, then I never would.  Who do you long for?"  she pried into his thoughts.  The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, in something resembling a smirk.  "I see you do not know yet.  Well, I will give you a chance to find out."  She turned from the prince and took her stoic place upon the golden throne.  The prince stood, mesmerized still.  "She is sleeping." Another smirk passed over her ruby lips.  "An enchanted sleep.  She will remain in slumber until she is kissed.  If you kiss her once, she will awake, but she will not know you.  If you kiss her twice, the fog will be lifted from her memory, but she will hate you.  If you kiss her three times, my darling prince, she will awake, remember, and know you as she did before.  If you dare to kiss her yet a fourth time, she will fall in love with you.  Whether she was in love with you or not to begin with, she will be yours.  But you must find her.  In three days, you must discover the enchanted bower in which she rests.  If you do not, then you belong to me, and your friend will remain as she is.  Let me tell you dear prince, her sleep is not peaceful.  Behind her pale fluttering eyelids, lie all the horrors of her life.  She relives deaths, tragedies, mistakes.  She meets anew monsters and villains.  She falls deeper and deeper dear prince.  Will you save her?"  

She turned to him now, and pulled her grasp from his mind.  Feeling the control slowly come back to him, his eyes grew wide in fear and he flung himself toward Wilson.  He pushed his horse, spurred him forward as if escaping some terrible force, as if fighting for life.  But before he left the golden hall, he turned around.  

"Help me." He pleaded.  " I know you've already given me this chance but… the world is so large.  I'll never find her.  Please."  The enchanted princess gazed impassively into the trees before turning her eyes toward the prince.  

"She dreams.  She calls for a rescuer."  She would say no more.  Prince Jon turned, nudged Wilson, and left the golden, tree lined hall.

The intense golden light of the princess's unnatural hallways diminished, faded to a pinprick behind his galloping figure and disappeared all together.  He pulled Wilson to a stop as he emerged from the wall of trees that was the forest's border.  The night was pitch black.  The stars had hid their faces, the moon sulked behind shadows and clouds.  _God, let me find her,_ he prayed under his breath.  

The wind whipped the grass in the fields, whistled through the branches in forests.  The world was speaking, though no human would understand.  But God… God made no promises.  


	3. You crush me with the things you do And ...

            Thanks for the good review (notice that I did not use the plural form).  It's encouraging.  By the way, the title and chapter headings are from the Dave Mathews Band song "Crush." Great song.  Enjoy, hopefully.  Oh yeah, this part could be considered a bit pg-13, just to be on the safe side, because of some mature conversation.

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            He was lying in tall, silky, vibrantly green grass, looking up at a sky that was impossibly blue with not a cloud in sight.  "Jon…" came a voice on the wind, and the prince stood, looking all around him, eyes darting from tree to tree, all across the vast meadow he lay in.  How did he get here?  Where _was_ here?  Then the voice again, "Jon…" It was more urgent, more pleading, and definitely familiar.  He called her name, "Elaine!?"  

            "Prince Jon."  And her voice was right behind him.  He spun around to face her tall figure, still clothed in the white shift she had worn in the forest, leaning on her magic cane to lessen the pain in her leg, long dark hair spilling over her shoulders.  The prince stood still as he watched the light breeze catch a dark curl and try to pull it from her head for it's own.  He reached out and touched the curl, smoothing it back into the other curls.  "I've found you." He said simply.  It had been too easy.  She smiled up at him and took the hand that still lay gently on her hair.

            "No.  I still sleep.  And so must you be."

            "Where are we then?" asked the Prince.

            "In a world of my making.  A dream.  But how did _you _come to be here is my question."  She sat down in the soft grass, pulling him down with her.  She sat the staff across her lap and folded her hands in front of her.  He sat, one leg bent before him, the other pulled up.  One arm rested on his knee and the other he put behind him, leaning close to Elaine.  He thought, how did he come to be here?  If this was indeed her dream world then—

            He remembered. 

            Damian, his old friend and mentor had been at Elaine's cottage.  He had jumped from his chair and caught the falling prince when he burst through the door.  He had known something was wrong.  And when Prince Jon had showed up without the young girl his suspicions were confirmed.  "Where is she," he had asked once he had settled an exhausted prince onto a couch.  And the Prince had told his old friend the tale, up to the infuriatingly vague hint as to Elaine's whereabouts.  Old Damian had seemed distressed by the enchanted princess's words.  "She dreams."  He kept repeating over and over.  "She dreams," repeating with a frown over his entire face, his eyebrows pulled together in agitation.  "I must tell you something." He had said. "But no…" after a second or two more of thought, "No, not all of it.  That is hers to tell."

            The Prince looked over at the dream image of his friend and caught her eye.  "You knew Damian even before you knew me." He said to her, repeating what the old magician had told him.  Elaine held his eyes with her own.

            "Yes." Was her honest answer.

            "He came to you in your dreams."

            Another yes.  "He was, well, like a fairy god father.  When…" she gathered strength.  He could tell that this was hard for her.  Behind her eyes he saw shadows of memories that must be the stuff of nightmares.  She started again, pushing down not only the lump in her throat, but the memories and shadows as well.  "When bad things happened to me.  He was always there, guiding me through, telling me what to do.  He told me about my cottage, told me how to find it.  But I'd never seen him until the day Wilson went wild.  Then all of a sudden, he was real.  I had never imagined that he might be actual flesh and bone.  I just accepted him as a figment of my imagination, or as some fairy or ghost."  She stared out across the rolling field of grass.  The, abruptly, she turned to the prince.  "Damian knew how to come into my dreams.  He sent you here."

            A scene flashed before the prince's mind's eye.  Damian was pouring something into a wooden goblet filled with water.  When the powdered something hit the water, a filmy silver light hovered over the rim of the smooth darkened wood of the cup.  He handed the goblet into the prince's apprehensive hand and spoke: "Drink it all.  Think of her as you do.  Think of everything about her: the things that make her most real to you.  Call her to you.  But you have to mean it."  But Damian knew the Prince would mean it.  The Princess's spell had faded and the Prince could think of nothing but saving his friend from eternal nightmarish sleep and himself from a loveless imprisonment by an enchanted princess.  The Prince threw the drink down his throat and focused on Elaine.  Her dark curly hair. Her dark bottomless eyes.  Her stubbornness and courage.   Her lilting story tellers voice.  The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking… Gypsy.  Gypsy.

            Then he woke here, in this endless field, a drowsy dream landscape, and heard her voice calling him.  

            All this flashed before him quickly, a snapshot of a remembrance, yet as if it was from another life.  He turned toward his gypsy friend.  "She told me you were in a land of nightmares.  That your sleep was plagued by terrors from your past.  I'm glad to see she lied.  But I only have four days to find you.  Where are you?"  A cloud had passed over her face.  Her eyes settled in the distance where green grass met blue sky.  "Elaine.  I don't know how to find you.  You have to help me.  Elaine?  Elaine?"  She turned her gaze toward him but distance remained in her dark eyes.  

            "I'm very cold Jon.  And frightened.  So many things that happened so long ago. Terrible things."  She was shivering.  He put both hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, trying to warm her, to calm her.  But she remained rigid, as if he weren't there at all.  "This field is a trick.  I thought at first that I was safe here.  I was confused about where I was, but I wasn't afraid.  But then… It takes me.  Takes me from this place and puts me— "  but before she could finish her sentence a coldness jolted his body and he felt as if he had been slammed against a wall.  

            And then they were no longer in the field.  They were in a castle.  A man and a woman stood in the center of a cold stone room.  There was a bed covered in rich dark green blankets, the window revealed an inky black night.  The woman was small with flaming red hair that reached straight down her back to her ankles.  She was dressed stiffly almost rigidly in a black shapeless gown.  She glared accusingly at the tall man standing before her.  Prince Jon saw that Elaine was staring at this woman with tears in her eyes.  The glistening drops pooled in the corners of her eyes not from sadness, but from fear.  She gripped his hand with all her strength, crushing his fingers together.  

            Prince Jon looked at the man.  He was indeed much taller than the woman.  His black hair curled unruly about his eyes and neck, and his striking blue gaze should have cut the woman's courage in two.  He was angry…  furious.  "You did this to me," she yelled, her voice shrill and piercing.  "I never wanted this.  I never wanted you!"  

            "Then why did you give yourself to me?  You could of stayed away from my bed."

            "You're a devil!  You know you seduced me!  I never wanted you!"  her voice and face were so full of brutal truth.  The man looked out the window into the darkness. 

            "I know." He whispered.  And it was clear that this simple truth hurt him.  Prince Jon knew then that this man had once loved this woman.  But he doubted that his feelings had ever been returned.  Elaine remained still at his side.  

            Neither man nor woman was aware of the prince and Elaine's presence.  They were but shadows, trespassers to another realm, so he held his friends hand and watched on.  

            "I suppose you're happy though," said the woman.

            "Of course I am unhappy that my lady wife is so unhappy, but I cannot lie and say that I hadn't hoped that our union would lead to children."

            "Pig!  Of course this was your whole goal!  You knew I did not want a child."

            "Yes… I knew."

            "Pig!  Devil!  You plan to ruin my life then?!" She was vehement.  Tears streamed down her lily-white cheeks, enflamed by her heated temper.  

            "No, only to improve mine.  And who knows, motherhood might suit you my lady." He was so calm, dispassionate.  His cold gaze focused on the starless sky outside the small stone window.  

            "No!" She screamed, rushing at him and pushing him backward.  "I won't!  I won't let you ruin my life!"  She ran toward the door and past the prince and Elaine's invisible figures.  She threw open the door and rushed from the room with her husband close on her heels.  The Prince pulled Elaine after them, through the massive doorway and into the eerily lit darkness of the hallway.  The woman was poised on the top of a long, carpeted stairway.  Her dark eyes were maddened, her hair a fiery torch around her ghostly white face.  She was all captive energy, all ghastly, murderous possibilities.  She dared him with her wild eyes to step closer, to push her closer to the edge.  

            "Tabitha." He whispered, almost afraid that the breath from his words would push her over the edge.  "Come to me."

            "It was those words that started all this.  I'll not come.  I'll not let you or any child ruin me."  A calm came over her face.  She had made up her mind.

            She let go of life, of sanity, and tumbled backwards into the darkness of staircase.  The man lunged forward and a scream ripped through the air.  

            Then they were in the field again.  The soul-shattering scream still wrenched from Elaine's bloodless lips.  She collapsed into Prince Jon's arms.  She shook with convulsive sobs as he held her.  His eyes adjusted from the dark gloom of the castle to the bright light of the field, his mind screamed with questions, and his heart screamed with anguish for the girl in his arms.


	4. head in hands, hands in prayer, and fall...

"While we wait head in hands, hands in prayer, and fall into a dreamless sleep again."

This might be it for a while.  I have one more month till summer break and spring semester sucks.  But hey, it's better than high school! The chapter title is from Dave Mathew's "Cry Freedom."  Thanks for your reviews.  Keep em comin.  I'd like to know if anyone is actually reading this!  Thanks.

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            He had never hurt so much in his life.  He lay still, recovering his breath, quieting his pounding heart.  Damian patted his forehead with a cold cloth and held a glass of water to the prince's lips.  When the prince lay still and silent, Damian spoke: "Did she tell you where she is?"

            "No."  There was a note of dejection to his voice, an exhaustion that came from his very soul.  

            "What did you see?"

            "I'm not sure.  We were in a field, and it was like she wasn't even there with me.  And then we were both pulled into a castle.  I would swear it was a memory but Elaine was not in it."

            "Who was in it?"  

            "A man… and a woman.  They were fighting.  The man wanted a child, and the woman didn't.  She was enraged at the idea.  She said that having a child would ruin her.  Then… then… she threw herself down the stairs."  Just the memory of it made the prince shiver with horror.  

            "Did Elaine tell you who they were: that man and woman?" asked Damian.

            "No.  We were sent back to the field, then I awoke.  But… she seemed scared of the woman.  There were tears in her eyes when she looked at the woman, and she screamed when the woman threw herself down the stairs."  Prince Jon looked expectantly at Damian and Damian only stared off into space.  Why? Thought Jon, did everyone stare off into space lately!?  

            "The woman… she had red hair.  And the man, her husband, he was tall and dark." They were statements, not questions.  The Prince nodded his head. "Tell me Prince Jon, was the man's hair black, like Elaine's?  Was it curly?  The woman's eyes?  Were they shaped rather like your gypsy friend's eyes?  Were they the same dark color?  What about the man's nose? And the woman's cheeks?  Did they not remind you of someone you hold dear?"  Now Damian was looking right at Prince Jon, staring so sharply into his eyes that the prince wanted to look away but knew that he couldn't.  All the images from Elaine's nightmare came crisply back to him.  And he saw in that instant what he should have seen all along:  the man and woman were Elaine's parents.  Well then, if that had been Elaine's memory, where had she been?  Had she been hiding in the shadows when her mother threw herself down the stairs?  Or had the unwanted child in the woman's womb been his dark haired friend?  

            Damian knew without words that the prince now knew the significance of Elaine's dream.  At least somewhat.  He could not bring himself to tell the prince all just yet.  It was not yet time for such a revelation.  It would mean catastrophe for his ward and godchild.  

            "I must go back."  The prince was snatching up the goblet he had drank from to put him into Elaine's dream.  Damian took it quickly from his hands and pushed the prince forcefully into a chair.  The Prince's eyes flashed but Damian cut down his unspoken words with a look that was as cold and hard as ice.  

            "No," said the old wise man.  "It's too soon.  There are consequences.  When I have used the drug, called the dreaming magic, it has been with years between uses."

            "It's the only way to find out where she is.  I have to.  Damn the consequences!"

"It is still in your system.   Taking the drug again might put you too into an eternal sleep… but rather less enchanted than the one Elaine is under.  Death, my dear boy.  If you have passed that dark veil into a land of shadows, then who will save Elaine?  Will you doom her to an everlasting, nightmarish sleep?"

            "No.  But… how do I find her?"  His hands hid his face and his voice came muffled, but Damian thought he detected a hint of tears in the young prince's voice.  

            "Let me repeat myself:  the drug is still in your system.  And until it totally fades, your dreams will be connected to that person whose dreams you initially invaded.  In this case, Elaine.  When you sleep, you can find her.  Now Prince, I suggest you run home.  I would guess that the whole castle is in an uproar.  You disappeared into the forest with that gypsy girl two days ago," finished old Damian with an abrupt change of subject.  

            "Two days ago!  Then I only have two days left to find Elaine!"

            "No, no, my boy.  You were in the forest for a full two days.  Didn't you know that?"

            "No.  The enchantment in the forest must have been great indeed.  How…how long was I asleep?"

            "Well, I put you to sleep with the dreaming draught as soon as you incoherently told me the tale.  Then you were asleep no more than ten minutes till you woke up screaming.  I assume you still have a little over three days to find your friend."

            "Three days."  The prince closed his eyes and tried not to think about how little time three days actually was.  But was not successful.  "I… I suppose I must go back to the castle now."  The prince stood up and had hold of the doorknob in three large strides, but before he could turn the handle, Damian spoke once more.

            "How much has Elaine told you about her past?  Her family?"

            "Nothing. We never talk of it.  I asked her once, and she said that I believed her to be a gypsy, and gypsies had no family, and that that should be answer enough.  I never asked her about it again.  It was clear she didn't want to talk about it."

            "You are about to learn much about Elaine that she did not wish to tell you.  That she would rather no one know… ever.  Be wise in your handling of this precious knowledge; its secrecy is imperative.  If you save her from sleep, yet reveal her secrets, you might not have saved her at all."  

            Prince Jon could hear the seriousness in every intonation of Damian's voice.  He would be very careful. He would do nothing to hurt his friend.  He turned to leave but old Damian had one last question to pose for the prince.

            "Prince Jon."  The prince stopped and stood in the open doorway, staring out into the night.  "Why are you so keen on saving her?  Is it to save your self from the enchanted princess?  Is it because you feel guilty for your friend's enchantment?  Is it because you wish to play the hero?  Noble motives can mean the difference between failure and victory.  I wonder, what are yours?"  He seemed to think. A heavy silence hung over the two men before the older spoke again.  "Do you love her?"

            Prince Jon slammed the door.     


	5. Watch the sunrise, to fill our souls up

            "Watch the sunrise, to fill our souls up."  DMB "Crush"   Man, this is fun to write!  I hope my few readers are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.  Like I said earlier, it may be a while until my next entry.  "I'm a sad panda." But school will be but a distant memory soon so… thanks as always.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Prince lay in bed, unable to sleep, unable to dream, unable to find Elaine, yet thinking of little else but her.  Old Damian's last words to him ran like a chant through his mind.  Do you love her?  Do you love her.  The words had angered the prince.  He had wanted to turn around and hit his old mentor, had wanted to scream and shout and tell the old man the truth.  But instead, the prince had spurred Wilson wildly home, leaving his worn horse in the stables, brushing off worried questions from his father and mother, he locked himself in his chambers.  Where he lay now, as he had hours ago, praying for sleep, cursing Damian, haunted by his old friend's last words.  

            Did he love Elaine?  Of course he did.  Or… he had loved her, once, before she had practically begged him not to declare himself to her.  That had quickly killed whatever romantic notions he had built up for her.  Now he loved her only as a friend.  He was saving her because she was his friend, because she had followed him into the forest, because it was his fault she was in this mess, and then… because he didn't want to spend an eternity with a cold hearted enchanted princess. No matter how beautiful she was.  No, he reminded himself, it was no more than friendly concern that had caused him to hold Elaine's hand so protectively when her nightmare had cast shadows of fear into her dark eyes.  And of course it was only an eye for the beautiful that ever caused him to even notice that dark brown, almost black color that was his gypsy friend's eyes.  It had been concern, and not love that had prompted him to hold his sobbing friend close.  Maybe it was love, he conceded to himself, but no more than a brotherly love.  _No, not brotherly love.  I am not her brother, _he thought quickly, banishing the somehow disturbing idea.  _ I am her friend; I should be concerned. But what about when you first saw her again?  In the dream?  What about that urge to kiss her?  That urge to pull her close and keep her to you forever?  You love her!_

            "No!"  yelled the prince to the darkness as he sat bolt upright in his bed.  "I refuse to love someone who will never love me back!"

            _Ah, _the darkness seemed to say, _that is the problem is it?  It isn't that you do not love her.  It is easy to see that you do.  _The voice took form, and a familiar sound.  Old Damian appeared at the foot of the Prince's bed and spoke.  "It is that you fear she does not love you."

"I do not fear it.  I know it."  

            "Have you asked her?  Do you know her side of the story?  Or were you rash?  Did you storm away without asking for an answer?"

            "She did not offer an answer.  She knew what I was about to say, and wished me not to say it.  She does not love me."  The prince switched his gaze from Damian's eyes to the dark ceiling above him.  

            "Has she said those words boy?  Has she told you she holds no affection for you?"

            "No.  But I know."

            "The young are so dramatic.  You dream now boy.  Sleep has taken you and you must leave off this quarreling with yourself and find your love.  Do not protest the word, young prince.  To say that she is not your love would be a grievous lie, and might stand in the way of her rescue.  Now I leave you.  Find her."

            Damian disappeared, fading from the prince's sight like some apparition come to make amends with the living.  His bed, his room faded, leaving him sitting on the edge of a porcelain bathtub.  A large, opulent bed lay at the end of the room, covered in pink silks and golden pillows.  The room was not empty.  The fiery haired woman, Elaine's mother, lay perspiring on the bed, a cradle lay beside her, and an old woman, bent and worn with age and life, stood looking into the cradle at whatever cargo it held.  

            "My poor, poor Tabitha," said the old crone, "the birth nearly killed you."

            "It was his intent my dear Hildy.  He wished to kill me.  What have you to say of the child?"

            "She is a beautiful child.  Yet not nearly so beautiful as her mother was at her birth."  The old woman smiled down at the newly made mother before she turned a frown back to the baby basket.  

            Prince Jon jumped as a hard, frantic pounding started at the door.  A voice from outside chopped through the heavy wooden door: "Let me in to see my child!  She is mine and I have every right to see her!"

            The old woman ignored the angry voice, but the wife grew nervous at her husband's ranting insistence.  "We'll have to let him in sooner or later. Tell me quick about the child."

            "Have you named her yet?"

            "No.  To name her would be to acknowledge that she is real.  I do not have a daughter.  Tell me about the child."

            The old woman picked up the small babe and cradled her in her frail arms.  "She will ruin you.  It is writ all over her eyes.  They are much like your eyes, my little Tabby."

            "No!"  shouted Tabitha.  "No."  A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye as she fixed her gaze on the heavenly mural that graced the ceiling.  

            "She will one day be more powerful than you ever dreamed of being.  She will rule over you, rule over her siblings.  Do not look alarmed my baby Tabby.  Yes, you will have other children.  None will be the threat that this one is, and you must love the others, as much as you are able to."

            "The child must not live."  The words were uttered calmly, silently, deathly.  

            The pounding had grown harder, heavier, more insistent, until the lock burst, and the door swung open, revealing the tall dark man that Prince Jon now knew to be Elaine's father.  "Give her to me!" He bellowed as he raced toward the cradle and the old crone who held his newborn child.  As he did so, Jon noticed another figure in the room that he hadn't seen before.  It was Elaine, and like himself, she was invisible to the dream visions that stood before her.  She stood with riveted gaze on the four figures before her, oblivious to the prince who was perched still on the tub.  

            Elaine's father snatched his baby daughter from the crone's arms and backed away from the bed, away from his wife.  "I know what nonsense you've been filling Tabitha's head with.  She loved me at one time!  She loved me until you came back.  You took my wife from me, you will not take my daughter!"  He cast a quick glance at the child in his arms and could not look away.  This was his creation, a part of him.  He could see himself in the little babe that slept peacefully through his bellowing.  "Elaine." He whispered.  "My little Elaine."  He tore his glance away from his child and caught the eyes of his wife before he left her chamber, "You will not hurt her.  If you touch her… Do- not- touch her."  And he left.  

            The crone pulled Elaine's mother to her feet and draped her arms around her.  "We will take you from this place until you have healed from your horrible ordeal.  Then we will come back.  The babe will not survive."  The old crone helped Tabitha into the darkness of the hallway.

            Elaine stood staring into the empty room.  She walked single mindedly over to the cradle and fingered the silken sheets within.  She was just thinking that Hell could not be much worse than this when a warm hand alighted her shoulder, and gasping, she spun around to face the one person she never thought to see… well, in this nightmare anyway.  His eyes were filled with tears, for her she could tell, and he pulled her into his arms.  The room dissolved and was replaced by the lonely, desolate field that she had come to know so well by now.  

            Prince Jon let her cry once again on his shoulder as he pulled up walls around his heart.  The thing was that every tear that hit his shoulder was a tiny explosion blowing his walls to bits and pieces.  She might not love him now, he thought, but he might be able to convince her to.  And if he found her, there was always that fourth kiss…

            "Thank you.  I am better." Elaine said as she pulled away and dropped to her knees in the soft green grass.  "I… I don't know why I'm having these strange dreams.  Or why they effect me so." She tried to laugh, but the attempt caught in her throat and she ended up choking back tears.  Her words enflamed the Prince.  Why was she still holding back on him?  Did he not deserve the truth when he was seeing it with his own eyes?

            "Do not lie to me.  That man is your father, that woman your mother.  I am neither blind nor deaf.  It is easy to see why being faced with your mother's words and actions would be so heart breaking."  She would not look at him.  "Did… did you know that your mother had felt this way?  I mean, before these nightmares?"

            She choked out, "Yes, all my life." The Prince could see the pain of this statement all over her face: her eyes dulled, her mouth drooped, he could almost see her chest constrict from the dart these words had shot into her heart.  He didn't care about her parents, he didn't care about the past anymore. He didn't want to know what she didn't want to tell him.  

            "Where are you Elaine?  Can you tell me that?  I don't know where to find you and I must get you out of here.  Now Elaine.  You must not stay here another night."  He was begging her now.  "Please Elaine, any clue to where you lay, something to help me rescue you!  I can't do this without your help."  He held both her hands now and his eyes would not let her's go.  

            "I… I'm not sure where I am.  I know that I know this place.  I've been here before.  When the wind blows I can hear echoes from my past visits here."  

            "Where is _here _Elaine?"

            "I'm cold Jon.  Very cold, and wet."

            "Are you in water?  Are you drowning!?"

            "No, no.  Not _in _water.  Near it I think.  And… and you were here once too.  I can hear your voice in the wind as well.  Yours and mine together.  Listen."

            The prince closed his eyes and cocked his head, willing his ears to catch the whispers that his friend was hearing on the wind.  And he heard…

 "_You shall come with me to the ball tomorrow night.  Everyone shall be envious of me, for I shall have the most beautiful princess in the land on my arm."  _

_            "But I am not a princess dear prince.  You cannot make me one."_

_            "Surely you are a gypsy princess, with that wild mane of dark curly hair, and those dark, jesting eyes."  _

_            "I am nothing so special as a gypsy princess.  I am a commoner, Prince Jon.  You'd do well to remember that."_

_            "Only a fool could look at you and see anything common, Gypsy."  _

_            "Come, let us not talk of balls and princesses.  What are they when pitted against God's grandeur?!"_

The prince opened his eyes to the dark green of his velvet-canopied bed.  The field was gone, Elaine once again had vanished, yet the whispered memories of the wind still clung to Prince Jon's ears.  He remembered that day.  It was before he had tried to tell her of his love, before their relationship had become uneasy, more complicated.  He remembered the day well for it was as close to heaven as he had ever thought he would come.  He had ridden out to her cottage impetuously, hoping that she could heal the sour mood brought on by pushy parents and clingy courtiers.  And she had.  She would show him her favorite spot, a secret spot, where the world stood still.  A place that God had blessed and time had never discovered.  Placing her before him on Wilson, she had guided the horse gently and knowingly while weaving stories about ages past and magic abandoned.  He had been so entranced by her storyteller's voice, and by the lovely figure that rode so closely to him, that he hardly even noticed the way in which they went.  But then she had stopped talking, "listen," she told him.  And when he did, he heard the crashing sound of water over rocks, water, breaking the calm surface of a pool.  A waterfall.  But when she guided them through the last dense patch of forest and pulled Wilson to a stop, the prince had been breathless.  He had never seen rocks so vibrantly green with moss, or water so crystal clear where the surface was close and so deeply blue where sand gave way to a deep abyss.  She had been right, this was God's playground, and time had no business here.  Taking his hand, she had lead him up the rocks, and smiling, challenged him to a race up to the top of the waterfall.  He let her win, afraid that if he passed her, she would fall, and her would not be behind her to catch her.  At the top, she took his hand once more and led him through the water into a cave behind the waterfall.  They sat there forever, talking of everything and nothing at the same time. He had asked her to his birthday ball that was to be held the next night.  And she had refused:  _I am not a princess dear prince.  You cannot make me one. _

 He knew where Elaine was.  She was in the cave at the top of the waterfall.  The sun was rising, and it seemed that it lifted his very heart with it, igniting a hope he had not yet, until now, let himself feel.  A tear of relief trailed down the prince's cheek.  He had found her.    


	6. you know, i mean to tell you all the thi...

            And once again she was alone.  How often had she characterized herself by that one word: alone?  Too many times for a girl who had only seen twenty years.  She was accustomed to the silence, to the void that she had learned to fill with stories and myths.  But this was different.  She was so much alone in this cursed field that for the first time since she was very little, she wanted to cry out for someone, anyone to hold, no, grasp onto.  Elaine had learned the wily secrets of the grassy plain.  It knew her every thought, her every fear and pain… and it toyed with her.  One minute she would be thrown into the world of her past, forced to witness scenes she had only before sorrowfully imagined, the next she was in the arms of Prince Jon.  Ah, that was the cruelest dream of all.  The dream goaded her with loving arms and hopeful ideas of rescue, but she knew better than to believe them.  She knew that he did not love her.  Why the enchantment had sent his image to her in the fields and in her nightmares was quite clear.  This dream Jon gave her hope of love returned, when she knew in the back of her mind that when she woke from this awful sleep, if she ever woke from this awful sleep, that there could be no wishing for such ridiculous notions.

            How could she have told him the truth?  She was cursed to live apart, to bring pain to those who loved her.  She had seen love in his eyes that day.  The day he had come to listen to her weave her stories in the village.  He had wanted to tell her, perhaps to take her in his arms as he had done in these dreams, only perhaps that day, it would have been a lovers embrace.  And with one cold yet furtive look she had silenced him brutally.  She had not let herself think of that day, for she dreamt of it often enough without enchantments and magic spells.  But she knew, when the dream took her from the field in a painful rush of magic that knocked the breath from her very lungs, that she would not escape such nightmares.  

            Now she looked herself in the eyes, though her dream self could not notice her.  She recognized the scene; it was one she had often dreamt of.  Turning to the cottage wall that was but a dream glimmer of the real thing, she prayed that this would end, and listened to words she knew so well.

_            "Prince Jon, I am not afraid any longer."  _

_            "Afraid of what Elaine?"_

_            "Afraid to love you?" she said, looking up at him, smiling shyly.  _

_            "Aw.  That really is very sweet of you dear friend.  But you had your chance." The Dream Prince walked confidently to the door, and opened it to reveal a perfect golden haired princess donned in silks and jewels.  "Meet my wife, my gypsy friend."_

_            "She will not make you happy." Elaine stated simply. "She knows not love."_

_            "And neither do I." Prince and the golden beauty left Elaine's cottage hand in hand.  A tear, the first of a rainstorm of tears, trailed down her cheek and splashed quietly and unnoticed on the worn wood of the cottage floor.  The broken hearted girl, fool as she knew herself  to be, melted, and followed the way of her tear.  _

Elaine watched her self fall in wracking sobs to the floor and knew every emotion, every thought that passed through her.  But this enchanted dream world had a surprise for her.  For the dream she knew ended here, yet still the vision continued, morphing into another shape, another room.  _This room was deep, and dark, and richly furnished.  Tapestries hung like dark curtains, and dark curtain blocked out all light.  A woman lay in bed, golden hair sprawled around her.  "So," she said to a man standing in the doorway, "you've caught me in the act."  The man, older, yet stately in his age, vibrated with pure rage.  _

_            "This is not how it should be.  This is not how marriage works." _

            "My dear King Jon, did you expect me to stay loyal to you?  Ha!  I can have any man I wish.  I but blink an eye in the right direction and the man of my choice is at my feet, praising me.  Something you've never done may I add."

            Elaine could not take her eyes away from the aged form of her friend.  There was sadness in his face if you could see past the violent anger.  And she could, she had always been able to see to his very soul.  Though seeing to his heart had been a different matter entirely.  The scene before her continued.

            "I praise where I see objects worthy of praise." Spat King Jon.  

_            "You praise that peasant girl, what did you call her?  Gypsy?  She is all to you, or was.  I cannot help it that she did not return you love, my liege.  It is your fault that you were not able to secure her affections.  Maybe if you had got her with child, you could have forced her into a marriage." The King was too insulted and enraged by her comments to utter a single word.  She went on:  "But you're to 'loyal' to do anything as dastardly as that aren't you?  You cared for her too much.  Ha!  Then you married me, thinking, naively, that in me you would find love.  Well my dear husband, you seem to be cursed in affairs of the heart, for I've never loved you, or even liked you."_

_            Too full of hatred to shout, too weighed down by sorrow, for his wife and his self, King Jon left his wife's chamber.  Walking mournfully down the cold stone hallway to the tune of his wife's cheery, enchanting laughter.  _

            Elaine stood watching her old friend's retreating figure.  His back stooped in defeat, his shoulders lifted painfully in a shattering sigh.  She had done this to him.  The realization hit her hard and left her breathless.  He, who would always at least have her love as a friend had been brought to this unhappy life by her fear and denial of her own feelings.  She cried to whatever puppet master pulled the strings in this enchanted sleep to cut her lose, to stop this hell.  

            And then she was back in the field.  The wind chuckled in its whisperings, taunting her.  She stood up tall, a sudden, surprising glint entering her eye, and threw her head back in an echoing scream.  "I will not give in!" she rebelliously declared to whatever spirits and beings were listening in on her agony.  "I am not scared of my past!  Let me face it!  I have lived!  I have loved!  And though I've had my misfortunes, I have lived a charmed life!  So bring your nightmares, your visions. I will cry no more."

            The field disappeared, and there was nothing but blackness.  __

            __


	7. I'm coming slow but speeding

"I'm coming slow but speeding."  This title is from the Dave Mathew's song, #41 (because it was the 41st song he wrote.) hehe.  I was gonna just take the titles from the song Crush (like you care), but I really wanted to have title that fit the chapter so… I cheated a little.  I presume this won't mortally wound you.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The two friends looked each other in the eye, each understanding the other's pain.  "I know you haven't had much time to rest old boy.  But we'll take it slowly, I promise.  I'll even bring another horse to bring her back on.  No riders, I promise.  Just lead me to the waterfall, that's all I need Wilson, old pal."  Prince Jon talked softly, running his hand in smooth strokes down the exhausted horse's neck.  Wilson had been raised by his prince knew the young man better than any human could.  

            The horse tossed his head playfully as if to say, "What? Me?  Tired?  I think not!"  It was a brave show, yet Prince Jon knew that his poor horse had already been pushed to his physical limits.  But he needed Wilson.  The horse had an uncanny sense of direction, always remembering how to get somewhere even when he had only been once.  Prince Jon on the other hand, never paid attention to where he was going and was lucky and grateful to have such a talented horse.  The two studied each other a moment longer, trying to gage exactly how exhausted the other was, then both gave in and Prince Jon swung up onto the horse's bare back.  

            Or he would have.  "Your highness."  Came an aloof voice from the stable doors.  The Prince turned his attention to a middle aged man in the dress of a royal footman.  His face was long and his receding gray hair was slicked back in the proper manner.  His nose stuck in the air and his heels clicked sharply together.  

            "Martin?  What is it?  I'm in a hurry."  Said the irritated prince to his father's long time butler.  

            Martin was unaffected by Prince Jon's sharp tone, as he was unaffected by most everything.  "The King wishes to have a word with his son."  

            "Tell my father I am busy.  I will come to him as soon as I return."  

            "That will not do your highness.  He has expressed that his utmost desire is to talk to you.  He commands it."

            "Really!  Can it not wait!"

            "Can your intrigues and games not wait, young prince?"  Martin had always used the term 'young prince' whenever he meant business.  He had gotten the habit from the king himself, and usually only used it when the king had.  

            So his father had brought out 'young prince.' That was never a good sign.  And there were still two and a half days left to rescue Elaine.  And he did now know where she was… "I give him, and you Martin, ten minutes.  If this is about balls or lessons, or some princess he is trying to throw at me, then I'm leaving.  Immediately.  Do you understand that Martin!"

            "Yes young prince."  Martin finished mockingly, turning on his sharp heels and leading Prince Jon from the stables.

II

            The King was still young, with but a touch of gray in his dark hair, streaking back at his temples.  His face, which bore the marks of happy years well spent, was unusually grave as he sat in a large, darkly polished oaken chair.  He locked eyes with his son and heir as the young prince strode into the royal library, looking rather agitated.  

            "Jon," said the king as his son sat opposite him at a long wooden table.  

            "Father, I really do have to be somewhere.  Can it not wait?"

            "What has been going on?  You disappeared for two whole days, then when you come back home you dismiss your worried family and lock yourself up in your chambers.  Then, less than a day after your return and self banishment to your rooms, your burst from them and go flying off to the stables!  Where are you going?! The truth please, young prince."  His father was in no mood for games or stories, and knowing his father to be a fair, kind hearted man, Prince Jon decided to give him the truth.  In as quick a manner as possible of course.

            "You've heard me talk of my friend, the story teller from the village."

            "Yes, you've been teaching her to ride."

            "Yes, and you don't approve, I know.  But something has happened to her, and me, and I'm the only one who knows how to help her.  If I don't get to her in time then not only will this world lose her, but me also."

            "Son, this doesn't make any sense at all.  What are you talking about?"

            "Well, if you'd let me go now, I'll explain it all in detail upon my return.  But I must go now!"  The father put aside the king and looked at the prince as his son.  

            "Go.  But don't fail.  We'll discuss this issue when you come back."

            "Is that all you had to say father?"

            "Actually that is not what I was going to discus with you at all.  There is trouble brewing," he said cryptically.  "But go.  We'll discuss these things later."  Prince Jon turned so sharply on his heels that Martin would have been shamed, and sprinted to the stables where he, without a single moments hesitation, sprang up onto Wilson's back and spurred him out the doors.  

II

            All about him, the forest melted in the scorching rays of the sun.  The leaves threw shading shadows over the forest floor, as horse and rider strode purposefully on their way.  The wind was gentle, swaying branches like loving arms and singing soft lullabies.  Prince Jon had no idea how long he had been riding through the forest.  The trees blurred together as beads of sweat dripped into his eyes.  His eyelids drooped with the heaviness of the heat of the day, his breathing slowed, leaving his lips in a soft rush that mixed with the hot air.  Then Darkness.

            He was back in his own castle.  Yet, it was different.  The hallways were once servants had chatted, children had played, and golden sconces filled with cheery fire to banish the darkness, were dressed in shades of black and gray.  Prince Jon walked warily down the hallway till he came to the door that entered his mother's chambers.  He opened the doors to find a room so totally changed, and a woman that was most certainly not his mother.  She was very beautiful, golden and perfect.  She lay lazily in bed, clothes strewn about the once tidy, cheerful room, humming; distractedly a tuneless tune. A door on the other side of the room burst violently open and a man, whom Prince Jon vaguely recognized stormed into the room, expletives fresh on his tongue.  The man turned to face the woman in bed, to vent his rage on her, but she beat him to words.

            "So, You've caught me in the act."  She taunted.

            "This is not how it should be, this is not how marriage works."  As the man controlled the deathly volume of his voice, the identity of the man struck Prince Jon like sinking weight.  The man was himself, years older, married, and despairing.  He could not tear his eyes away from the face of his future self.  It was surreal.  He was jolted from his shock by strange words.  

            "You Praise that peasant girl, what did you call her?  Gypsy?"  Prince Jon listened as his dazzling future wife mocked him, torturing him with thoughts he was sure must torture his future self every day with out the help of his wife.  

            Why was he seeing this?  He knew that he must be connected to Elaine's dreams still, but he saw her nowhere.  Why would she dream that he would marry this woman, that he would have a loveless, sham of a marriage?  He watched as his older counterpart slammed the door shut between him and his wife, leaving her chuckling, laughing at her husbands misery.  Prince Jon grew disgusted, left the room quietly, and walked dazedly down the darkened corridors of the castle he once knew, the castle he had walked in just today.  But is was so changed. Could the golden woman in his mother's old bed be the bringer of such gloom?  Did his choice bring such unhappiness to all around him?  Shaking his head, swearing that it would not be so, his pace quickened until he was running, running, praying to awake, praying to escape.  

            Then Darkness.  He was standing outside a small hut on the edge of a village.  A small candle flickered inside and he could barely make out the sound of hushed whispers.  He crept closer, curious as to the occupants of the hut, curious as to why Elaine's dreams had brought him here.  An old woman, gray hair pulled into a braid and curled around in a bun sat in a small wooden chair, hunched conspiratorially over the table where a small flickering candle sat.  A girl, perhaps sixteen years of age, sat across from her, her long dark hair curled down her back, and the candle gleamed in her dark eyes.  "Elaine." Whispered the spying prince.  She was so young, so innocent, so scared.  In an urgent gesture she took the old woman's hand in both of her's.  

            "Please, you have to leave.  They'll be here.  I can take care of myself."

            "And you think I can't!"  admonished the old woman.

            "I know you can Nana.  But you don't know them."

            "I believe I do young Ella.  I knew your mother before you were born.  I knew her Hildy before she was born.  I know exactly who they were, and what they have become.  Why else did I take you in my child?"

            "Because you love me," Was her playful answer.

            "Yes, of course I do dear heart." Her face turned grim. "But I will not leave.  I am not a coward.  I still have enough power to face them… or die."

            "No. No, no, no, no, no.  Don't say that Nana.  No.  You're leaving with me.  Come on, we're leaving now."  The old woman stayed stubbornly seated.

            From the woods behind him, Prince Jon heard the unmistakable sounds of men and horses.  A woman's high pitched voice sand out above the din.  "She's inside the hut!  Do not let her escape!" then as an after thought, she added maliciously, "Or I'll eat your hearts."  A laugh rang out with the clatter of chain mail and a chill ran up the prince's spine.  The women inside the hut heard the noise as soon as the prince did.  

            "Now, Nana. Now. We have to leave now."

            "I'm not leaving Elaine."  The old woman's voice was resolute, she had made up her mind, and Elaine knew she could not change it.  The prince could see her eyes quickly fill with tears, then just as quickly, she brushed them away.  The old woman put a necklace around her grandchild's neck then kissed her forehead.  Her eyes spoke words she would never say again, then Elaine ran.  The prince could not see her clearly.  She was a blur, a shimmer, a ghost of herself.  The necklace was a charm.  They would not find her as long as she wore it.  The prince wondered, did she still wear it?  Now, four years later, was she still hiding from her mother?  The soldiers reached the hut, and with one angry word from the fiery haired mad woman, they set the hut ablaze.  Prince Jon had not seen Elaine's grandmother leave the building.  She was still inside.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hazy form of his younger friend gripping onto the side of a tree, half hiding, half fainting, clearly shocked and mortified.  

            The small hut was engulfed quickly in a roaring inferno, flames danced wildly, licking viciously at the already charred sky.  Prince Jon felt himself slipping away, the heat of the fire gave way to the brilliant heat of the forest's summer day.  He had awakened, and realized that he had never seen the sleeping Elaine in these visions.  Worried, he leaned into Wilson and whispered in his ear, "Quickly old friend.  Quickly."   


	8. Could tommorow be as wonderous as you th...

            Ten minutes ago, the first faint rumbling of distant water had caught the wind and and fluttered teasingly into Prince Jon's ear.  He had spurred Wilson faster than ever through the underbrush and in between trees until he pulled up abruptly and stopped right at the bank of a small, crystal clear river.  Prince Jon stood there, looking around him, remembering, now so clearly, the day they had spent here.  The small brook broke through towering cliffs, that once you passed through them, opened into a grand canyon, an amphitheater that magnified the sound of splashing and falling water till it reverberated in the very core of your body.  Yet it was not at all an unpleasant sensation, quite the opposite in fact.  

            The Prince left his horse at the stream before the cliffs and speculated on the best way of reaching the other side. Through the water would be the quickest route, so he rolled his pants up over his knees and, tying his shoes together, threw them around his neck.  The water was warm, even in the sun depraved area between the towering bluffs, and it was but a short distance to the small, secluded canyon that held the waterfall, and hopefully Elaine.  When he finally stood in the opening of the bluffs, faced with the tall grandeur of the cliffs around him and the waterfall in front of him, his heart skipped a beat.  Surely with all this beauty and goodness around him, nothing could go wrong.  She was here, and he would find her.  He reminded himself that he had done well so far, reaching the waterfall with still one day to spare in the enchantment.  And with that thought, he stepped into the warm pool that the bluff's stream poured into, the pool fed by the waterfall.  But it was not warm.  Prince Jon jumped back, shocked by the iciness of water in the still, shinning pool.  Above him, the sun beat down on his head, on the water, as fiercely and unforgiving as it had outside of the canyon.  But here… here the enchantment held icy sway even over nature.  He sent up a one-word prayer, "_Please,"_ to the heavens, and began his climb to the top of the waterfall, to the cave that was hidden by the silky fall of crystal water over the tall silver bluffs.  It was the only place he could think of to look, he did not let himself look beyond reaching the top.  He did not let himself envision failure.  It would not happen.  

            The prince was an adept climber, having scaled the bluffs and trees of his kingdom since he could walk, and reached the entrance to the cave unscathed.  The falling water was like ice, colder he thought.  But, taking a deep breath, and steeling himself for the acute pin pricks that came from stinging chilly water, he rushed through the piercing wall of water to find that he was wrapped in a damp, darkness that chilled his very bones.  She was not there.  But he could not see to the back of the cave.  Where the wall of the once-small cave should have been, there was nothing but empty, inky blackness:  the tell-tell sign of an expanded cavern.  It was already dark near the opening of the cave, even when there should have bee plenty of light, filtering to play like rainbows on the wall of abandoned cave.  But there was no light.  And the prince had no torch.  

Never losing his resolve, Prince Jon placed a hand on the rough, slimy surface of the cave wall, and walked forward, slowly, one step at a time, never letting his mind dwell on the darkness that enveloped him.   The cave narrowed, becoming a passageway, a tunnel.  He could put both hands on walls on either side of him now, and he kept going.  It was longer than it should have been.  Surely, longer than the mountain was wide.  The path never changed, never led up or rolled down, or curved, always straight ahead.  

And then, abruptly and without warning, he could no longer touch both walls.  He could touch neither wall where he stood, so he moved to his right, hand on the wall and followed the cold stone, never stopping to consider that he might have taken the wrong direction.  But there was no direction.  When he came back to the point he had stepped to the right at, he knew that two things had just happened: he had just walked in a circle, and he was in a chamber.  A circular chamber.  As soon as this thought lit into his mind, the room flared to life.  Rolling licks of light ensconced rhythmically along the stone walls of the cave's circular chamber almost blinded Prince Jon.  He covered his eyes, not yet used to the blinding light, but just as quickly uncovered them, for in the instant that the room had been illumed, the contents of room had been revealed.  

Elaine.

In the center of the room was a large, gray, stone slab, a makeshift bed at the moment.  On top of the cold stone lay the sleeping maiden, her eyelids fluttering helplessly, her face deathly pale, a thin veil of sweat broke over he forehead.  

The prince could not move.  It was as if the air were thicker than water, holding his arms, legs, and lungs in place, he could not move, he could not call out, he could not breath.  Fighting, cursing, screaming in his mind, tore free and took one step forward, but could move no more.  He could move, but wouldn't.

Swirling shapes took form in front of him, white, silver, misty shapes that blocked his way to Elaine.  Three men stood before him.  Or rather, three creatures that held the form of man.  One apparition, old and bent in appearance, stood between two others.  

"Step aside."  Said Prince Jon, with more confidence than he felt at the moment.  The three men just stared at him with their transparent eyes.  Unnerved, he changed his tactics.  "Who… who are you?"  came the quiet, breathy question.  

The old man answered.  "We three dared love the most beautiful woman in the world."  The enchantress, remember the prince.  "But to love a creature incapable of love, comes with great pain, great consequences, and great responsibility.  A daughter should love a father for all he gives her, for all he sacrifices.  But it was never enough."  The old man grew silent as the younger apparition to his left spoke up.  

"I was her best friend.  I believed that she had a heart.  And when I finally realized she didn't, I had already given my life to her."  

The last man spoke up.  He was the youngest, the strongest and most handsome.  His could be a beauty to match that of the enchanted princess's.  "Ah.  A lover's grief is bitterest of all.  I could love no one else from the moment I saw her.  Twas my fate to fall in love with beauty of the face rather than beauty of the soul."  

Prince Jon could not answer to these tales of pity.  Yet he wondered how these men had come to be wrapped up in this enchantment, as surely as they were.  Was their love for the heartless beauty so profound that her own endless enchantment had caught them up in it too?  "How did you come to be here, men of ages past?"

"We wanted her to love, my little Bella.  But only the strongest of magic can make someone believe themselves so, and no sorcery on earth or in heaven can give someone a heart who was born without one.  So I sent for a wizard, the strongest to have ever lived.  And we, the three who loved her most, despite her follies, maybe for her follies, wrapped ourselves, our hearts and souls, up into an enchantment that we hoped would someday teach her the pains and joys of love, even if we were no longer alive to see it."  Hundreds of years of history gleamed in the old father's eyes as he spoke these words, and the weight of it all fell crushingly on Prince Jon's shoulders.

"So then," spoke the prince, " has she learned to love?  Does she love me?"

The lover spoke up, his voice royal, his tone sorrowful.  "She has learned how to cheat the enchantment.   If she can take herself a lover, then it is broken.  She does not love.  Even if she were able to, she wouldn't want to.  It is not in her.  A fact we realized to late."

"Is there a way I can help lose her from the enchantment, after I save…" his gaze drifted behind the wavy figures of the men and settled on the firm outline of his dear friend. 

"Both women are ours." Said the princess's old friend.  "You can have only one.  You must choose now.  If you choose Bella, my cold enchanted friend, then you choose her golden forest, eternal youth and beauty, and a long, cold life."  Then the choice was easy.  Who could chose such a life.  "Do not yet make your decision yet boy.  Your fate is twisted with that of the woman asleep on the stone.  And it is not all good.  The only way to escape it is to choose Bella."

"Twisted? What do you mean that our fates are twisted together?"

"Choose."

"Elaine."  He was surprised how quickly he had answered, no hesitation, no thought as to any other choice, just Elaine.  He had to save her.  He stepped closer to the shimmering apparitions, closer to the sleeping maiden.  But could move no further than a single step.  The friend spoke.  

"She will be awoken with a kiss.  But yet again you have a choice to make.  Four kisses, four outcomes.  Kiss her once, and she will awaken, yet not remember who you are.  You will be but a stranger to her, the only thing erased from her memory.  Why choose this path?  Why choose a blank memory?  It's a fresh start.  She will not know you lie when you tell her that she is your fiancé, your wife.  You are a prince, you have the means to convince her that her memory is so damaged from her enchantment as to forget.  Is that not your desire young prince?  To have her as your own?  With one kiss, you can achieve this.  There are so many lies you could tell her, so many ways to deceive her to get your own will.  One kiss to awake her with forgotten memories."  The friend stopped speaking, and the old man's words filled the silence of the stone room.

"Kiss the sleeping lady twice and she will awaken, and remember you, but hate you.  Remember, your destinies are interwoven, and to kiss her twice may ease the hardships of your futures.  Love complicates things my boy, for everyone.  One word of caution.  If you kiss her twice, you may save the lives of others, countess others, you may not.  The future is not totally foretold, but to kiss her twice may be a saving act for many souls.  Consider carefully my lord."  

The young handsome image of the enchanted princess's lover stepped forward, his face breaking into the first smile the prince had seen all day.  And he spoke.  "Three kisses to return all to as it was before.  You may never win this girl, but then again you might.  She might love you, but then again, she might not.  All is chance.  Yet you give her back her free will, you give her honesty and truth.  You give her friendship.  Three kisses to change nothing at all."

"And the fourth kiss?  The princess from the forest, she said four kisses, four options."  

"The fourth kiss," said the lover.  "You know what the fourth kiss will do.  You know its effects, its consequences.  True love?  Forced love? Does it matter?  Do you want her love that bad?"

Prince Jon took a step back.  The figures before him vanished, and the way to her was open.  His thoughts were in turmoil.  He knew he had but one real choice.  There was only one right course of action.  But the other options sat in front of him, enticing, tempting, shrouded in forbidden mystery.  But he couldn't take advantage of her.  He could save lives, the old man had told him.  But he was selfish, and the thought of her hatred turned his blood cold.  So that left two choices.  Back to normal… or sure love.  He could kiss her four times, he could make her love him.  He could be sure of her love.  But would it really be her?  Would he be taking something away from her?  Her freedom?  Her choice?  No.  he couldn't do it.  

He was kneeling down, leaning over her, close enough to realize that she was not well.  He knew not how he had gotten to her side, his thoughts had so occupied him as his feet had moved automatically to her side.  She was cold and pale, almost a blue tone under her rich dark skin.  Yet she was beautiful.  As beautiful in her helplessness as he found her in her independence.  Her eyelids lay stone still and her chest barely lifted with each feeble breath.  Leaning over her, he knew he cared for her too much take anything away from her. And being near her, he knew he was too weak, too selfish to sacrifice her love, even her friendship, for the lives of those unknown others.  

He kissed her.  One. Two.  Three times.  Three kisses.  Elaine's eyes flew open, bright and dark in the flickering firelight; haunted, frightened.  


	9. Lying under this spell you cast on me, t...

"Lying under this spell you cast on me. With each moment, the more I love you."

After this chapter and then one more, I want to take this story past just the sleeping beauty thing.  Do any of you know if I'll need to put this on fictionpress after this?  Well, I think I will anyway.  The rest of the story really has nothing to do with any other fairytale and is purely my own so… I guess I'll wrap it up nice and neat here, then go back at fiction press and change the ending to fit the rest of the story.  You're all welcome to continue reading.  Actually, please continue reading.  I love feedback about my style or plot, or anything you like or don't like. So… thanks so very much.

He couldn't take her back to the castle.  She would never stand for it… even if she couldn't even stand at the moment.  Prince Jon was worried.  She had woken, eyes flinging open drenched in pain.  But the fact that there was recognition hidden behind the pain gave confidence to the bewildered prince. She knew him.  He could see it in her dark eyes.  She was shivering violently as he picked her up and carried her through the cave.  She weighed heavy in his arms as he carefully brought her down the mountain, and as he pulled her up onto Wilson's back, her lips moved slightly, and her arms, arms that had clung weakly to her rescuer all the way out the cave and down the mountain, tightened their hold. 

            "Thank you," she whispered.  The Prince was shocked.

            "I didn't know you were awake."

            "I'll never sleep again," came her weak and distant reply.  And as far as Prince Jon could tell, she neither slept nor closed her eyes the whole time he stayed with her.  She insisted, though in a less stubborn and boisterous tone than usual, to be taken not to the castle, nor to Damian, but to her own little cottage. Her home.  And he could deny her nothing.  When he left her sitting up in her favorite chair with bundles of blankets about her to keep out the cold, her eyes were open, staring icily at some unseen shadow.  And when he brought old Damian back no more than half an hour after he left to go fetch the old man, her dark eyes still stared piercingly ahead.  No, it would be a while before she would let herself close her eyes.  A while before she would let herself sleep. 

            Old Damian knelt before Elaine and took her hands in his own.  Disturbed, he turned quickly to face the Prince.  "She's freezing.  How long has she been like this?"

            "Since she awoke.  I thought she would have warmed up by now." Alarmed, the prince came to Elaine's side and brushed his fingers over her cheeks.  They were bright red, and flaming hot.  "But Damian.  She's not cold, she's burning up!"  The old mentor placed his wrinkled, weathered hand over her forehead and drew his eyebrows together. 

            "So she is.  But feel her hands."  Damian relinquished one of her slender hands to the prince, who took it gingerly, praying that his own grasp would thaw the icy appendages.  Elaine looked straight ahead the whole time, never meeting the eye of either man before her.  "Elaine, Elaine," pleaded the old man, "Listen to me.  You've caught fever.  And there's only one way to break a fever, and it has nothing to do with magic.  Rest, real, un-enchanted sleep.  Sound sleep."

            "She won't sleep.  She won't even shut her eyes," said the prince, brushing a lock of fallen hair from her face. 

            "She must.  Listen.  You are afraid of the nightmares.  Afraid of seeing your mother, your father.  But if you don't sleep, you will become very sick, and I will be able to do nothing to save you.  The choice is yours Princess Elaina of Darwin.  Face the past and choose to live, or continue running and die within a week."  Elaine's eyes came into focus, and locked with the eyes of the caring older man who had so brazenly thrown a challenge into her face.  Her lips parted and her voice silently floated to the waiting ears of the two men. 

            "I think I do feel a bit tired."  Her face held no smile, but her eyes danced with the intensity of purpose.  She chose life. 

            The two men stood over the small bed and the seemingly even smaller woman in the bed.  She lay curled up and on her side.  Not, noticed the prince, on her back as he had found her in the cave.  She curled her head into her pillow and burrowed safely under the warm blankets that the prince had laid out over her.  Damian worked on filling the room with the warmth of a roaring fire and Prince Jon simply tried to sort through his confused thoughts as he stared unceasingly at the quiet figure of his friend.  They didn't know where to settle, his thoughts.  They jumped back and forth from the revelation that she might die, to something else Damian had said.  He focused all his concentration on the other thing, refusing to let himself believe that she could fail at anything, including living. 

            "She can't be the Princess of Darwin."

            "And why can't she?"

            "Because my father plans to marry me to that particular princess.  We would have heard if she had gone missing."

            "Have you ever considered the fact that there might be more than one Princess of Darwin?"

            "Well, no.  But, there isn't.  As far as I know, King Robert has but one daughter: Renè.  She's eighteen years old, and is supposed to marry me when she comes of age at twenty-one.  I won't marry her.  But she," he said, motioning toward Elaine, "is definitely not the Princess of Darwin." 

            "Sit, young prince, and think about what you've learned of your friend in the past three days.  Think of the man and woman you've learned are her parents.

            And the prince sat, and forced his mind backward to that dream world where he had first encountered Elaine's strange parents.  The room, the staircase, the man and the insanely distraught woman.  It had been no peasant's home that the couple had stood in.  It had been a grand, tall, and dark staircase that Elaine's mother had thrown herself down in the attempt to rid herself of her growing child.  Prince Jon shivered at the thought and thanked God that the woman's plan had not worked.  Her parents had been well off, he saw that now; they had been much more than well off.  Their home had been a castle.  There had been elaborate murals painted on the ceiling above Elaine's mother's bed on the night Elaine had been born.  No commoner could afford such lavish decorations.  The clothes worn by Elaine's father were simple yet fine and obviously well made.  They were very much like something Prince Jon's own father would wear. 

            So was his Elaine, his gypsy princess, after all, a real princess?  He could see nobility in her face, it was evident in the very way she held herself.  "How?"  was all the prince could manage, never letting his gaze leave the outline of his sleeping friend.  Damian's voice came from behind him, heavy and serious.

            "There was a prophecy.  Elaine's mother, Queen Tabitha, was a great woman of power.  Nothing was dearer to her.  And in her youth, when first she married King Robert, Darwin was the greatest kingdom known.  All other's trembled before it, and paid homage to it.  She was a very suspicious, untrusting woman, not even letting her husband fully into her heart.  And she was completely controlled and manipulated by an old sorceress; a woman by the name of Hildy who was as cold and untrusting as the Queen.  It was Hildy who found the prophecy, who interpreted it. The prophecy spoke of a daughter, the first born, who would usurp her mother and claim the entire world as her own.  Hildy spoke words of hatred of the yet un-conceived child.  Spoke lies and damaging whispers until Tabitha believed her.  She swore never to lay with her husband again, never to risk bringing a child that would ruin her into the world. 

            "But she did."

            "Yes, she did. And she's hated her husband for it ever since.  But the prophecy spoke of a second-born daughter, one more beautiful and cunning than the first.  The second daughter would prove no problem for the mother, instead would be a willing pawn and supplicant to the mother's every whim.  A year and a half after Elaina's birth, Queen Tabitha swallowed her hatred for the sake of Hildy and her prophecies, placed an enchantment upon her husband, and conceived a second daughter."

"René."

"Yes.  She loved Renè.  No child could have stood in so much faith and love as she.  Yet even now she still hated even the memory of Elaina believing her to be a demon sent solely to destroy her.  But Elaina's father had loved her, and smuggled Elaina out of the castle, leaving her in the hands of another old magician, Lillian Bennett.  The record of Elaina's birth was wiped from record, her spoken name punishable by death. The queen believed Elaina dead for sixteen years."

            "Until the night of the fire."

            "You saw that in a dream then.  Yes, Hildy discovered that the Princess Elaina was alive and living as Elaine Bennett, Lillian Bennett's pretty little granddaughter.  In an insane rage, Queen Tabitha sent seventy-five soldiers to take care of the aging sorceress and her small granddaughter.  They set fire to the cottage where Elaine had spent her whole life.  Lillian had seen it, knew it would happen, and told her precious charge everything from the time she was old enough to understand.  She was a princess in disguise, hidden from the world to keep her safe.  She was to be proud of her heritage, proud of whom she was.  But it was a secret, always a secret.  So when the time came, the night of the fire, Lillian sent Elaine out into the world alone, with nothing but a temporary invisibility charm and a heart full of sorrow for her grandmother, and hate for her mother.  But I came to her, in her dreams, as I had since she was a child, and told her where to find shelter.  I led her to this cottage."  The prince looked up, understanding dawning on him.

            "You led her to me.  Why?"

            "There are so many prophecies and paths twisted together that to tell you of them would be beyond dangerous.  You must find out for yourself the answers you seek. You must live with the fact that I did lead her to you, and not worry about why.  It is not important."  Prince Jon struggled with this, strained to put aside his questions, his natural curiosity.  Silence filled the small room, and Damian crept closer to Elaine, checking her forehead with one hand, and holding her hand in the other.  Her hands were warm now, and he was glad she was asleep so she couldn't feel the piercing tingling sensation that must be coursing up and down her fingers as they gained feeling.  Abruptly, he stood, and strode from the room.  Prince Jon had retreated to a corner where he leaned heavily against a bright white wall, eyes focused on the roaring fire that was almost suffocating him with the heat. 

            A noise, a mumbled word, came from the bed.  A frightened whimper, a soft cry, brought the prince to his knees by the lost princess's bedside.  "Damian!" 

            When Elaine had started thrashing around, mumbling in her sleep, Prince Jon had wanted to wake her.  It was only the forceful hands and voice of Damian that kept him from doing so.

            "She must finish this.  If you wake her up, she will never understand, never be free."

            "I don't have to wake her up!" the Prince argued.  "I can go to sleep, and if our dreams are still fused, then I can help her."

            "No.  She must do this by herself."

            "Do what!?  I don't understand.  They're just dreams.  Why is this so serious?  Why do you keep talking in riddles?  I'm sick of it old man!  If I don't get some straight answers, then I'm waking her up.  Look at her!"  Elaine's face was contorted in pain and fear, sweat was dripping from her forehead.  "I can't stand to see her like this!"

            "Then leave young prince, but do not interfere where you are not needed!  If I must, I will constrain you in any way I deem necessary."  There was a deadly seriousness in the old man's steel eyes.  Both men stared icily at the other, daring each other to make the first move.  It was the prince who moved first, but it was lean against a wall, close his eyes, heave a great sigh. 

            "You know I will not fight you.  But I won't leave either."

            "It might be for the best young prince."

            "No.  I will be here when she wakes.  I won't wake her.  I promise."  The prince shot his old mentor a quizzical look as the old man pulled two chairs close to the window, where a cool breeze floated through.  Elaine's face had calmed and she had stopped mumbling, though beads of sweat still dripped down her temples and she had kicked all of the covers off the bed.  "Sit, sit dear boy.  It's damn hot in this room and if you won't leave her side, then I'll sit here to keep you company."

            "Ah. And make sure I don't do anything rash I suppose."

            "No no.  I trust you completely.  I just thought we could talk a bit, about things outside these walls.  Try to focus elsewhere for a while so that you don't go mad with worrying.  Prince Jon glanced nervously and lingeringly over at the girl on the bed, as if he were afraid that not thinking about her would make her disappear.  "She'll be fine dear boy, if you think of something else just for a bit.  It might even be better for her.  Too much tension in here ya know.  It's never good for those trying to recover."  The prince finally ripped his gaze away from Elaine and met the now soft eyes of his old friend.

            "So.  What shall we talk of?"

            "Oh I don't know, you decide, what form of conversation would be interesting to  you?"

            "Well that's hard seeing as how I can't speak of anything within these walls.  But I know.  How is my father?  Do you know what it is he wished to talk with me about the other night?"

            "Ah.  I do know.  I do.  But I believe that is something best left for your father to tell you."

            "Well that's not fair!  If I guess what it is he is going to tell me, then would you confirm it?"  The old man gave the young one a dangerous look, glaring at him through slit eyes and knotted eyebrows. The Prince ignored the look, and started to guess anyway. "Lets see, what's so important that my father actually sent someone to find me.  Now that I think about it.  It must have been something big.  He's never sent someone to find me before.  I'm a little worried now Damian.  What could it be?"  
            "Go home and find out Prince."

            "Nice try, but I'm not going anywhere.  Once I've determined that Elaine's alright, then I'll go home."

            At that moment Elaine sat straight up in bed, screaming.  Both men shot out of their chairs and to either side of her bed.  Damian tried to force her back down while the Prince repeated her name over and over. She seemed to be totally unaware of both of them for several seconds before she shook her head as if awaking from a daze, and collapsed back onto the damp bed, in a pool of sheets, pillows, and dark, wet, tumbled hair.  She closed her eyes, and Prince Jon realized that it was not sweat that was running down her cheeks.  After a moment or two of silence, in which Damian had begun to open all the windows and doors of the cottage to let in the cool evening breeze and to stifle the fire that was roaring in the hearth, the prince dared to speak her name.

            "Elaine?"  She opened her eyes and there was no farness in them.  She was here, in the moment, and she was totally coherent and rational.  She pushed herself up to a sitting position and pushed loose strands of hair behind her ears.  She smiled at him.  She was all right, and the prince could breath again.  He smiled back as she looked him straight in the eyes.

            "Thank you," she said.  "for saving my life."  And that seemed to be all she knew how to say.  She was totally dumbfounded by what she saw in him.  His eyes held her so fiercely that she wasn't sure she could ever look away.  She could hear his heart beating loudly and quickly and was alarmed when she learned that her hear seemed to be beating just as loudly and quickly as his.  As he reached up to push back a lock of escaped hair, she knew that, this time, she would not be able to keep him from saying what he wanted to say.  He would tell her how he felt and, though she was scared (so scared she felt like hiding under the bed), she began to feel that she wouldn't mind hearing what he had to say.  In fact, she was quite sure that if he pulled her into his arms, or if he kissed her (would he dare kiss her?) she would not be opposed to it at all. She actually found herself wanting him to pull her into his arms, to (dare she wish?) kiss her. 

            So she mimicked him.  Holding his eyes with her own (or was he holding her eyes?), she reached up to push away a rouge lock of curly dark hair.  He seemed not at all alarmed by this gesture and rather at ease as her hand lightly brushed his temple.  In fact, she would swear that his smile widened.  He took her hand, the one that she had reached out to him with, and held in gently yet possessively between both of his hands. 

            "Well, it was my honor.  But I couldn't have done it had you not saved me first gypsy."

            And hearing him call her that, hearing him call her gypsy, was more than Elaine could take.  Swiftly, and without warning, she flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.  The Prince was rather stunned, though he was certainly not upset.  He fact, he locked his arms around her tightly as she leaned her head into his neck and whispered, "You have not called me gypsy since that day."  And the prince did not need to be told what day it was that she was talking of, for he remembered it clearly.  Too clearly.  He did not wish to turn this day into that one, though he was sure it could never be so.  He knew by the way she looked at him and held him that she felt differently.  No, maybe not differently, but she was braver now, willing to let herself take chances.  He knew that their friendship was not fused with a stronger emotion and he rejoiced at the knowing.  But he would not jeopardize this.  He would wait; he would let whatever fears of the future or of the past that terrorized her melt away.  He would help them melt away.

            Not letting her go he asked, "I take it that you were upset with me for that."  He pulled away just enough to look clearly into her face. " And here I was thinking this whole time that you hated it when I called you gypsy."  She shook her head 'no' and laid it back down on his shoulder. 

            Abruptly she pulled away and leaned back against the head board of the bed, her face in confusion.  "I have a couple of questions, prince.  And you'd better answer them.  None of this, when your stronger business that I feel you'd be quite capable of pulling."

            "Anything dear gypsy, anything.  I'd never think of trying to stifle your curious nature.  It would mean more trouble for me than it would good."

            "You're certainly right.  Now to begin with, how did I save you?  As I remember, we were in the forest, and I believe I was doing a very good job of angering that woman, when all of a sudden I was somehow transported to that damn green field and that horrific sequence of dreams and nightmares."

            "The enchantress gave me a chance to escape her spell.  I had to find you and awaken you within four days or else I would be forced to live out the rest of my life in that golden hall with her.  Because you did such a good job of angering the golden lady, I was given that chance.  So, you must see now how you saved me."

            "Technically, by completing the task she set before you, you saved yourself dear prince."

            "You fight everything!" laughed Prince Jon.  "But you must believe me in this, it was _you _who saved me."

            "Well, I'll leave it be for now since there are other questions that do arise."

            "Such as?"

            "Such as, how did you find me?" 

            "You know the answer to that!  Through your dreams. Damian gave me this potion that connected me to your dreams, that's how he comes to you there."

            "But I thought!  That was really you?  I thought I was dreaming you."

            "Have you dreamed of me before, gypsy?" He couldn't help but tease her, and he delighted at the way a soft red blush stole over her cheeks and she momentarily diverted her eyes from his until she regained her composure.  The Prince smiled. But Elaine did not.  In fact, her face grew quite worried.  "What?  What's the matter?" asked the prince.

            "If that was really you in my dreams then, then you saw my dreams.  Do… do you know then?"  The prince softened his expression and wore a look in his eyes brimming with love and kindness.

            "Yes I do.  Yes Princess Elaina of Darwin, I know exactly who you are." 


	10. By love we'll beat back the pain we've f...

"By love we'll beat back the pain we've found." Dave, Crush

Elaine had never told a living soul about her true identity.  The only other people who knew where her grandmother and Damian (who had silently left when he entered the bedroom to find the two young people embracing.  _They'll live_, he thought).  And instead of being scared or worried or threatened, she felt relieved.  All of a sudden she could breath, as she had never before been able to.  Someone knew.  And not just any someone, but someone she could trust to keep her secret, someone whose opinion of her would not change at all now that he knew.  Or would it?  From the day Elaine had met Prince Jon he had delighted in imagining her a wild gypsy princess, a wayward, magical creature.  She knew she was not any of these things; she was simply a lost and disinherited princess.  She didn't even think of herself as a princess.  She had never lived like one, never been treated like one.  She was just herself, with some story built up to fairy tale or legend status that proclaimed her a princess.  She was no more than anyone else.  She was not a princess.  But would Prince Jon feel differently about her now, now that he knew she was not a gypsy, that she was a not a vagabond traveler or some fairy child.  Was this enchanted tale he had dreamt up about her all he saw?  Would she lose his friendship?  Would she lose whatever else it was that was there between them? 

            The Prince noticed how her face fell, how her eyes left his to roam the various cracks and crevices on the walls.  "What?  Tell me."  He begged her, softly.

            "Oh nothing, just silly insecurity."

            "You have nothing to worry about.  I'll not tell a living soul about your true identity.  I assume that if word reached your mother that you were really alive…" his voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but not the thought.  They both knew that Queen Tabitha would come after her older daughter once again if she knew she still lived.  It was imperative to keep Elaine's identity a secret, to keep her safe, to keep her alive.  The prince would be the last person to breathe her secret to anyone.  __

            "No.  It's not that.  I know you won't tell anyone.  I trust you.  It's just that… it's silly.  It really is.  I'll just forget it." His concern over her insecurities was already showing her that real gypsy or not, he truly did care for her. 

            But the prince would not let up.  He wanted to know, he had to know, everything, so he could help if he could.  He wouldn't let up.  Finally Elaine gave in and decided that it wouldn't hurt to let him know of her silly worries.  "Fine Prince Jonathan of Caraway!  If you must know!" she stopped, she blushed, and turning abruptly to throw her face into a pillow, she mumbled, "I was worried that now that you know that I'm not a gypsy that you wouldn't like me anymore."  The words sounded even more absurd when spoken out loud.  And when her ridiculous statement was greeted by nothing but silence, Elaine knew that, in finally showing the prince how silly she truly was, he had left her forever. 

            But then laughter.  Deep melodious laughter that filled her room to the brim and threatened to shake the roof off of her little cottage.  She sat bolt upright and turned around to see the prince lying on his back, convulsing with laughter.  She knew her statement had been laughable, but no one likes having their deepest fears laughed at.  So she hit him with a pillow.  Leaning up against the headboard, she was even more enraged to see that the wretched prince kept on laughing!  But she was only enraged momentarily.  For laughing, as we all know, is contagious, and soon Elaine was lying right along side the prince, holding her side because it hurt from laughing so hard.  When their stomachs stopped heaving and they had caught their breath, the prince turned his head toward Elaine and, bravely reaching up, twisted a lock of her hair about his finger.  Smiling contentedly, he spoke:

            "Princess Elaina of Darwin, Elaine, my gypsy friend, I love you."  And reaching over, he kissed her.  Softly and chastely, their lips met.  Neither opened their eyes for quite some time, just happy to believe that it was all a dream and that if they opened their eyes then it would all disappear; that they would not be lying next to the most wonderful person in the world. But they did open their eyes, and they were both quite mystified and quite joyous to see that it all wasn't a dream.

            "I've never liked dreams anyways," whispered Elaine.  Prince Jon looked confused, but she just smiled and shook her head, laughing softly.  "Never mind."  She didn't know if she could say the words yet to him.  She had never told anyone that she had loved them before.  The words were never spoken between her and her Nana, and she had never known her parents or really had very good friends.  There was only him.  He was the first to utter such words to her; the first to mean them in the sense that he meant them in.  But she told him with her eyes, pleading with him silently to understand that one day she would be able to tell him just how much he meant to her.  But until then, there was only one way.

            Leaning in, a very little ways since they were close already, she kissed him.  And when she drew away and looked into his eyes, she knew that he understood. 

            "I'll wait, my gypsy.  I'll wait," was all he said.


	11. “I walk with your shadow, I’m sleeping i...

"I walk with your shadow, I'm sleeping in my bed, with your silhouette." J. Mayer, Back to you

            Prince Jon had never spent a night so torn in his life.  On the one hand, he was ecstatic that Elaine loved him.  Though she hadn't said it yet, every smile and every look told him so.  But then there was the fact that he was alone.  He had the biggest bed in the kingdom besides his parent's and yet no one to share it with.  Well, he had someone he would like to share it with, but couldn't.  First he'd have to marry her.  Which he'd gladly do, if only he could convince his parents that he didn't need to marry a princess.  These thoughts filled his head as he walked the long corridor that led to his father's study.  He had been summoned, quite officially (which was strange) by his father that morning.  Pushing open the heavy oak door, he greeted his father, "Good Morning Father.  You wished to speak with me?"

            "I assume that you've gotten this little hero business out of the way?  That story teller girl, what's her name?"

            "Elaine"

            "Yes, Elaine, she's been rescued and all?"  The king was sitting in a comfortable looking brown leather chair, perusing a yellowed piece of parchment over a small pair of oval spectacles. 

            "Yes.  In fact father, I need to speak with you on a matter regarding her… uh… her rescue."

            "Whatever you wish my boy.  But it will have to wait till I've told you what I called you here for.  I have been waiting for over two days you know, while you went off who knows where in search of some insignificant peasant girl!"

            "Father," Prince Jon's voice had an edge to it that should have warned his parent that he was on dangerous ground.  But the King had never been good at decoding the different intonations of his son's voice.  Or anyone's voice for that matter.    
            "No, no my boy.  Me first, me first."  And the prince plopped down into a chair opposite the king.  He propped his chin upon his balled fist, stared steely at his father, and heaved a great sigh.  The king took this as a sign of surrender, and continued.  "I hold in my hand, a document that is older than you are.  But let me cut to the crux of the matter.  No dilly-dallying.  The document clearly and plainly states that the eldest son of Thomas King of Caraway is to wed the eldest daughter of Robert King of Darwin by the youngest party's eighteenth birthday.  In other words, you are to marry Princess René of Darwin within one month. 


	12. “Now she’s falling hard, she feels the f...

"Now she's falling hard, she feels the fall of dark, how did this fall apart." Dave, The dreaming tree

            He had simply never came back.  She didn't know why she let it bother her.  It shouldn't, she told herself.  It was silly.  But then she had been so sure that he was telling the truth when he told her that he…  well, she refused to think about it now.  For the first week she had done nothing but wait for him with misty eyes and a hopeful heart.  Excuses for his absence came willingly to her lips.  Something must be wrong she told herself.  Not even before the enchanted princess and that blasted hellish sleep had he missed so much as two days without at least sending some teasing message to her. 

            Nothing came.  After the first week, she felt well enough to go into the village, though she still clutched dearly to the tall staff that eased the pain caused from her fall from Wilson, to sit silently and weave her stories for all who would listen.  Though her patrons were quick to pick up on the sorrow tinged voice, and the way her stories seemed to be laced with a melancholy that had never been there before. 

            After two weeks had passed without a single word from the Prince, Elaine seemed to fall back into her self.  Her stories lost their sorrow; her voice lost its melancholy.  To those in the village who knew her best (who were also few and far between) she was healed.  But to old Damian, who had been watching her closely, letting her be alone, but never leaving her out of sight, she was very far from it.

            Damian strode through the woods with a purpose.  He rapped on Elaine's door with three urgent, demanding knocks, and stood, arms folded across chest, scowl glued permanently in place, in wait for hiding princess. 

            "Damian.  I haven't seen you for a while.  Come in."  Which he did.  Still scowling, he spoke.

            "This is the first time in your life in which I have not been there to help you through it.  Am I right?"

            Looking down at her hands she replied, "Yes.  You're right.  You've always been there, at least in my dreams.  You're the closest thing to a father I've ever really had." 

            Damian's scowl lessened, softened to an impassiveness that was, while less threatening, was still commanding.  She continued.  "Why, when I've needed you now, have you not come to help me."

            "I've come to help you now girl.  But I can't do all the work!  I never have!  All I've ever done is show up, a dream vision with a few consolatory words.  You, dear girl, have made all the decisions, trusted every instinct, faced every challenge with a fierceness that a hundred armies would cower under."  He had moved toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder.  With the other, he reached up to lift her lowered chin and look her in the eye.  "Where is that Elaine?  Has she given up?  I can't believe it.  I won't.  You saved your friend weeks ago when you stood up to a powerful magical creature.  Her beauty and bitterness never frightened you.  If you had not stood up to that bewitched princess, then Prince Jon would be trapped with her, in that timeless forest forever."

            Elaine thought over his words.  She had never been the weak one.  She had lived her life on the run, hiding from the past she never knew, and had tried to make up for this (what she had always seen as cowardice on her part) by being brave in every other area of her life. 

            Damian could see that fierce light spark up in her eyes and knew that he had reached her somehow.  Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead gently.  "I love you daughter."  Purposefully, he turned on his heals and strode from the cottage.  As he closed the door he let himself brood over matters.  He saw this little mission as a success.  If she had remained in her funk she would never have the courage to do what she was going to have to do.  He hoped that he had spurred her on, that he had restored the confidence that she would need in the near future.  He allowed himself a small chuckle thinking, _it sure doesn't take much.  _

            Elaine sat down slowly and carefully, her gaze falteringly forward, her back as straight as a board.  She hadn't been herself lately.  She hadn't let herself feel the magic that she had always been able to sense around her since she was able to discern it's subtle difference from the wind, from breathing, from the colors of the sky or the songs of birds.  But now she opened herself up to it again.  It was funny; she had used this strange ability to sense the magic that surrounded the enchanted princess and her lifeless bower.  It had then been the princess's magic that had ultimately brought Elaine and the Prince together, which had then turned dreadful by his conspicuous absence, and then had led to her shutting herself off from the ability to feel magic.  She started laughing at the complexities and senseless circles of life.  Laughing led to tears shed in agonizing sobs.  But when she had done with crying, she was left with only herself.  And Elaine knew that that was all she needed.

            The next day found a very determined young girl, with dark curling hair and dark gypsy eyes sneaking into the royal stables.  She had put on her drabbest skirt, dirt brown in color, and her most boring shirt, a whitish color that had dulled from it's fresh crisp color to an old beige.  She hated these clothes, and usually only wore them during spring-cleaning.  But today she wanted to blend it, to be lost in the dull monotones of the countryside.  Today she had a purpose, and would do whatever it took to accomplish it successfully. 

            She strode into the low roofed, clean white stable like she belonged there, like only a fool would question her being there.  She inhaled the fresh, sweet scent of hay as she looked tentatively into each of the boxed off stable rooms where the horses were kept.  She wanted to see if Wilson was there.  She had come up with the bright idea that the Prince might have been sent off somewhere by his father.  And the prince would go nowhere without his horse.  So to the stables she had trudged to prove to herself that Wilson was not there, and so logically, neither was his owner. 

            "Excuse me.  Miss?"  A short boy of about sixteen had caught a glimpse of stiff brown skirt as he had entered the barn and Elaine had turned the corner.  "Excuse me, but I don't believe you should be in here."

            She was caught.  Slowly turning around, she put on an expression of the deepest frustration.  "I… I'm sorry.  I'm lost you see."  She had no idea where she was going with this. 

            "Ah, you must be one of the Princess Rene's ladies in waiting."  The young boy eyed her up and down.  He had never seen this one before.  He had heard that Princess Rene kept only plain or ugly girls about to serve her, to make her own beauty even more obvious.  But all that could have just been rumor.  Because this girl certainly was not ugly, nor even close to plain.  He'd definitely like a chance with the lost, dark haired beauty if he could have it. 

            "Umm. Yes… Princess Rene.  She sent me down here to make sure that a horse was prepared for her when she goes for a ride.  She wishes to use the best horse in the stables.  Wilson I believe she said.  She wanted to ride some horse by the name of Wilson."

            "Well that's a bit unusual." The young stable hand furrowed his brow together and leaned a shoulder against the wooden wall.  "The Princess usually comes and prepares a horse herself.  In fact, I came in from my work outside in the back just to prepare for her.  She usually comes about now, but you know that of course.  But I suppose she must be busy.  Since she sent you and all."

            "Yes.  That's it. Busy.  So I suppose we should saddle up Wilson for her highness."

            "But no one but the Prince uses Wilson.  And he hasn't come to ride the old boy for weeks.  He's shut himself up in the library I heard.  But hey, I suppose you know better about the goings on of the inside of the castle don't ya.  Bet you could tell me all about it."  The young boy's eyes glazed over in the excited stupor that takes over when one is about to hear a juicy bit of gossip, and Elaine could think of nothing at all to say.  But she didn't have to, for at that moment the two were interrupted by a high-pitched, yet musical voice… screeching. 

            "Nathan!!" yelled the voice.  "Nathan!  Do you have Ilda saddled and ready?"  The voice turned the corner to reveal the most exquisitely dressed woman the world has ever seen.  Her dress was so ornate and beautiful that it almost overshadowed the woman inside of it.  Almost.  She was something else.  Her hair was raven black and her eyes were a shade of blue that defied description.  Her skin was milky white, a stark contrast to her dark locks, and her every chiseled feature sang of perfection.  She was slim and elegant and perfect. 

            But Elaine only saw a fleeting glimpse of the ethereal creature.

            "Your highness," said the stable boy, bowing low, averting his eyes.  "I did not think you would be here so soon."

            "And why is that?  I am here the same time every day.  You should know by now."

            "It's just that one of your ladies in waiting came.  She said that you were busy and that she had come to saddle up Wilson for you."

            "One of my ladies in waiting?  I sent no one here.  Where is the girl?" Both looked around, but only one was surprised to see that the lady in question was no longer present.  A single perfectly manicured brow arched high over a glittering sapphire eye.  She decided to let the subject drop.  It had nothing to do with her plans for the moment.  She followed a rather different train of thought than the one the very confused stable boy was headed down.  "But Wilson does need to be saddled.  The Prince will be joining me today."  Princess Rene turned her back to the clearly stunned stable boy just as a lopping prince Jon entered the stable doors.  He said nothing as the princess took both his hands in hers and thanked him profusely for condescending to ride with her this afternoon.  She was so delighted at the prospect of finally getting to know him a bit better before their nuptials, which were slightly more than a week away. 

            Prince Jon simply shrugged her off with a polite nod and a slight bow and turned his attention to the horse he had been seriously neglecting for quite some time. The stable boy stood stock still, not moving to help either of them, and though this bothered Jon not at all, it rather perturbed the Princess.  Prince Jon was roused from his zombie like stupor when Princess Rene's shrieking reached new heights. 

            "What's all this about?" he cut in, quickly silencing the ever reddening princess. 

            "This dolt just stands there, never once offering his services to his future queen!"

            "I'm sorry, miss.  I'm so sorry Prince Jon.  It's just, she disappeared so quickly."  The poor boy really was quite stunned by the vanishing act that had been pulled on him.  You seen, he was an especially romantic sort of fellow, and had, even in the short time he had been in Elaine's presence, been imagining all sorts of outings and words of praise he would say to her to make her fall madly in love with him.  And her abrupt departure had seemed to him like some sort of evil prank straight from a fairy story.  And it was all so incredibly unfair!

            "She?  Who?"  Asked the prince.  Visions of dark haired gypsies had been plaguing him all morning and he wondered, though he knew not why, if these visions were catching. 

            "She said that she was the princess's lady in waiting.  But I didn't think she could be."

            "Why not?"  The young boy cast an apprehensive glance at the stately woman standing impatiently beside them.  Her foot made a dull tapping sound in the clean dirt that strew the floor of the stables.  Her lips were pursed together in a seriously agitated manner, and her eyes could have thrown darts.  Poisoned darts.  Prince Jon gulped.  "Here, Princess, let me ready your horse for you.  Then you can begin your morning ride, and I'll catch up with you later.  I can't very well let the help be spooked by ghost girls.  Their work might suffer.  I can't very well let that happen."  He said all this while grabbing the side saddle mounted on the wall beside the mare, Ilda, that Princess Rene had made her own while staying in Caraway.  He had Ilda saddled and ready to go before the princess could make a word of protest.

            "But Prince Jon.  We were to ride together today."  She said this as if she was somehow being cheated at a card game. 

            "And… we will.  But I have to think of my duties first of course.  I know you understand." And with that, he slapped the rear of the horse, and it shot out of the stable, toppling the ornate and feathered hat that had sat precariously atop the princess's mound of curls, off of her head.  The prince then walked casually over to Wilson, stable boy in tow, and started to brush his old friend.  The calming, rhythmical motion soothed horse, prince, and stable boy, so that the interrogation could begin.

            "So.  This girl.  Why did you not think she was one of the Princess's maids?"

            "She was too pretty your majesty.  I've heard that Princess Rene keeps her maids plain; so that they don't over shadow her own beauty.  Not that any woman could overshadow your future wife my lord."  The prince just shrugged this off.

            "What did she look like?"

            "She was wearing very plain clothes.  But they couldn't hide how pretty she was."  The young boy smiled at the remembrance.  Maybe the prince would help him find her.  "She had long, dark, curly hair.  It wasn't as dark as the princess's hair, or as curly, but it was more natural. It just hung about her shoulders and down her back."

            The prince just nodded and continued to brush Wilson.  He knew the hang of every curl on her head.  The boy continued.

            "And she had dark eyes.  Very dark eyes.  And her skin was tanned.  Not so white as the princess's, not near as white.  You could tell that this girl is outside in the sun often.  She had white pretty teeth and probably a very beautiful smile."  Both young man and prince stopped.  The talking stopped, the brushing stopped, and both besotted males just stared into space.  The prince shook his head clear first.

            "Yes, a very beautiful smile indeed.  And… what was it that she wanted?"

            "Well, she wanted me to saddle up Wilson for the princess.  Which I thought was odd.  But I would have done it if she'd have smiled for me."  The young boy smiled at the prince.  "A man'll do anything for a pretty smile you know.  And of course your princess has the best smile."  But the prince was not listening.  He did not wish to talk about Princess Rene, he wished to talk about disappearing gypsy girls.

            "And she just disappeared?  How long ago?"

            "As soon as the princess walked through the doors.  Ya know, I don't believe she really was one of the princess's maids," the boy confided quietly to the prince.  The prince confided ever quieter,

            "No, she wasn't.  Tell the princess I was called away on urgent business in the village."

            "Yes'sir.  Urgent business. Sir… do you know the girl?"  The prince saw the look in the stable boy's eyes at this.  He knew that he had lost the girl even before he had even had her. 

            "Nick… would you like to be in on a little secret?  Can I trust you?"

            "Yes sir! Of course you can!"  The prince hoped that helping the pretty young "lady in waiting" would be enough for the young boy, that if he was romantic enough to fall in love at first site, then he would grasp onto this little piece of romantic storytelling and run with it whole heartedly.

            "Nick, the lady you saw is the other half of my heart.  I can only guess that she came to here to find out what happened to me.  Of course you and I know, that the princess has happened to me.  But she doesn't know that.  You see, I don't love the princess.  Not one bit.  And I've been so caught up for the past weeks, trying to figure out how to get out of this marriage, that I've sort of forgotten to tell this girl my plans.  I have to tell her now.  Who knows what she thinks is going on.  She may hate me.  So will you tell Princess Rene my little white lie?  I will never forget your kindness to me.  And neither will Elaine."

            Elaine, so that was her name, thought Christopher the stable boy.  It was a beautiful name.  And such a beautiful and sad story to go with it.  No wonder she wasn't smiling.  She probably thought her love was dead or worse, in love with a snobbish princess!  "You can count on me Prince Jon.  I completely understand.  Besides, the Princess never even gets my name right.  She calls me Nathan." Nick made a face as prince Jon extended a hand of friendship to the younger boy.  There was a hint of disappointment in young Nick's eyes.  But the Prince still felt that he could trust him.  He was a young romantic, and there was no better person in the world to trust with a secret of the heart.

            Prince Jon mounted Wilson and sped out of the stables and into the forest, while Nick began concocting the best lie for the prince that he could.

            After a short full out gallop, Prince Jon slowed his horse down to a slow walking pace.  And when he spotted fleeting glimpses of a white shirt through the never changing summer browns and greens of the forest, he dismounted Wilson and walked, leading the horse by a soft leather rein. 

            She never heard him as he as he walked up behind her.  She was so deep within her own thoughts that she didn't even hear the noisy hoof beats or Wilson's soft neigh. 

            "Elaine."  She didn't even hear his call.  He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.

            "Ahhhhh!"  Elaine jumped five feet in the air, throwing her hands over her mouth and Prince Jon collapsed into a useless heap of laughing on the forest floor.  "What were you doing!" she screamed.  "You can't just sneak up on someone like that!

            The prince gulped for air and pushed words out between fits of laughter.  "What do you mean sneak up?!  I was making a racket!  I thought you were just ignoring me."  She glared at him as he finished laughing and then turned to continue back home, this time with a prince on her heels.  "Elaine. Elaine! Wait!"  She kept walking.  "I know you're mad at me." He had caught up with her now and matched his pace to hers.

            "I'm not mad at you.  And I wasn't ignoring you.  I was just trying to figure it all out."

            "Figure what out?"

            "Well, that was my… my sister.  Wasn't it?  The Princess Rene."

            "Yes.  That was her."

            "Is she here for a visit… or"

            "Or."  Both of their steps lengthened and slowed.

            "And you've been hiding in the library?  Is she really that bad?  Or is that the way you treat all your bride's to be?"

            "I've been trying to figure out a way to get out of this marriage Elaine.  You know I don't have the slightest inclination to marry her." He stopped her and forced her to look him in the eyes.  "Tell me you know that."

            "I know." She wasn't about to tell him about those few horrible weeks in which she had doubted him.  She had only realized last night that no matter where he was, he was hers.  It had been something Damian had said to her about always trusting her intuition, her instinct.  That was when she had decided to find out what had happened to the Prince for herself.  "How come no one in the village is talking about it?  I've been back at work for a week and… I've not heard a word about the happy event.  You'd think it would be the talk of the town."

            "No one is talking about it?  That's strange.  My father wasted no time in announcing it to the world.  And her parents, especially her mother, are very eager for it to happen also."  He stopped here when it belatedly struck him that the Princess Rene's parents were Elaine's parents too.  An eager mother for one sister was a death threat to the other. 

            She ignored his last comment. "So, I guess you haven't quite found a way to get out of all this have you?  If you had you would've come to tell me sooner."

            "I'm sorry.  Very sorry that I never even sent you word.  I should have let you know the minute my father told me.  I… I don't think there's any way I can get out of this without causing a war."  He stopped but Elaine didn't.  After a couple paces further, she turned around and spoke.

            "I've always known that we could never be married Jon.  It was part of the reason I was so scared to admit that I loved you.  I didn't want what has happened to happen; to spend a day or two together and happy, until the inevitable and unavoidable comes.  We've both known that you were betrothed since birth.  It's just a very painful irony that your betrothed just happens to be the sister I've never known, who is worshiped by the mother who wants me dead."  Elaine let loose a tiny, dry laugh with no hint of a smile behind it.  "I know that there are other… 'options'.  But I'm better than those options.  I won't be anyone's mistress.  Not even yours.  And if that means that I'll spend my life alone, then so be it.  I was fully prepared never to fall in love and to always be alone before you meddled in my life.  However did you worm your way into my heart, let alone my eyesight, you pompous little prince."  Her last words were playful, teasing, begging him to lighten the mood.  But the prince's attention had abruptly wandered elsewhere during the beginning of her speech.  She waved her hand quickly back and forth in front of his eyes.  "yoo hoo. Prince Jon."  He came to with a start. 

            "Yes, yes.  I was just trying to absorb all that."  He thought for a second, finger touched lightly to his chin, "lets walk for a while.  I have some things to say to you, and I need to collect my thoughts."  Elaine agreed, and silently, they walked until they reached the tiny, warm spring that ran noisily behind her cottage.  Prince Jon pulled Elaine down into the grass beside him, remembering the last time he had sat beside her like this.  But he quickly pushed thoughts of that deserted dream field from his head; he didn't need that fear now. 

            "Several points," he said briskly, adapting a very business like tone.  "First, I would never think of degrading you so by taking you as a mistress.  I will stay faithful to whoever I marry, whether I love her or not."  Elaine believed this whole-heartedly.  "Second, have hope.  There is still a week until the wedding and I'm sure to find a way out of this by then.  Especially with you helping me now.  And last," Now he dropped the serious façade and let a mischievous glint into his eye. "What was it you were so scared to admit?  I've been wondering if I heard you right."  Elaine gave him a questioning look.  She was a little confused as to what he was talking about.

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, you said that you had always known that we could never marry.  And that it was one of the reasons that kept you from admitting that you… here's where I get fuzzy.  Where I think I might have heard wrong.  What was it you said?  That you were afraid to admit?"

            He was teasing her now and she knew it.  He knew how hard it was for her to admit that she needed someone; and how it was even so much harder for her to say it.  She thought about teasing him back.  It's what she would normally do.  Tease him mercilessly until she had him frustrated almost to death, and then finally give him what he asked for.  But time was short.  One week.  That was all they had.  Somehow teasing seemed a waste of time.  Even though it was great fun.  Decisions, decisions.

            Taking a deep breath, she looked straight up into his dark eyes with a look so defiant and strong that he almost took back his probing questions.  Almost.  For the prince was a fighter also.  And he wanted, more than anything, for her to say those words. 

            "Fine," She finally said in defeat.  Telling herself that she was going to say it anyway and that she hadn't really lost. "I was scared to admit that I love you." 

            "Meaning that…"

            "Are you going to make me say it?"

            "If I don't have some sort of genius revelation within eight days, then I'll need those three words to live off of for the rest of my life!  I insist you say it!"  She glared at him, but he just glared right back.  They were both on the defensive.  The prince knew that there was only one way to win the battle now.  He had picked up on the strange fact that his Elaine was overcome by a strange weakness when he called her by her nickname.  So he softened his expression, pulled out the puppy dog eyes, and whispered one tiny word.  "Gypsy?"  It was a question.  It was a statement.  It was a thousand things in two tiny syllables.  Gypsy rolled her eyes, mumbled something about cheating, and then pulled the corners of her lips into a small smile. 

            "I love you."

            He barely heard it, she had whispered it so softly, but those quietly mumbled words were all he really wanted anyways. 


	13. “I’ve this creeping suspicion that thing...

"I've this creeping suspicion that things are not as they seem." Dave, The stone

            _If an arrangement has been made precluding the advent of the participation and consent of the parties pertained to in the arrangement, and the agreement is unsatisfactory to said parties, then said agreement can be taken into contention all the way to the highest authorities. Excluding, of course, agreements that have been sealed in the written word and signed and formalized in the form of an official and notarized document.  In this case, only a pardon from a royal authority, specifically and ultimately the King of that region, can unbind the parties from the bounds of the contract. _

Prince Jon groaned and let his head fall onto the tediously long-winded sentences of the law book.  What it said, short and simple, was that only the King could release him from his contracted and forced marriage.  And the king was his father; a father who happened to be dead set on him marrying in two days.  With a pang of misery shooting straight to his heart and a dull throbbing in both his temples, he pulled the cursed contract towards him to once again read it's binding words.  He read them out loud, hoping that the finality of the spoken words would spur him onto that revelation that he sorely needed.

            He found himself paused over the aging parchment, a small grim smile on his lips.  She had let him take her hand and walk her over to a large and ancient tree, where they sat, both leaned against it's gnarled bark, both looking gloomily ahead into a future that, for them they thought, held no happiness.  After a time of sitting together and, together, imagining the worst possible scenarios, Elaine turned to him and asked if there was anything that she could do to help him find this revelation that would free him from the betrothal to her sister.  She had said Princess Rene though.  She would never call the princess her sister; she felt no such connection to her whatsoever.  Thinking that he was being stupidly clever, Prince Jon had boldly stated that a kiss… would be enough to keep him searching day and night.  He had never hoped or dreamed that she would grant his silly little request.  But they she never did do what he expected of her. 

            Prince Jon turned his attention back to the contract of betrothal and read it out loud. "In this, the fifth year of the rule of King Robert of Darwin, and the third year of the rule of King Thomas of Caraway, an agreement has been made."  An agreement. Ha! More like a death sentence.  How could parents so readily gamble away the lives of their children like this?  Prince Jon let his eyes skim down the rest of the legal wording to peruse the signatures at the bottom.  Some were curly and ornate, with large loops and swoops, others were stiff and to the point.  He saw clearly the swooping loops of his father's signature; he had often tried to copy it as a young boy, trying as hard as he could to be like his father in every way.  He next turned his attention to the signature of the princess's father.  King Robert preferred to sign his name with no flourishes at all.  He was simply Robert, for all the titles and power he had, the sturdiest part of the whole name was the Robert.  Prince Jon wondered if the men were anything like their signatures, and if yes, then how did his own signature reflect his own personality.

            He left these musings to look over the other names at the bottom of the page.  There were two others.  They were signed simply, Lillian and Damian.  Funny, he wondered if it was the same Damian as his old friend and mentor.  And if so, then why had Damian allowed his father to do this?!  The Prince felt red-hot anger well up into his throat.  He didn't need anger now; it would only distract him from the task at hand.  He had to find a solution.  He turned back to the top of the document and again read aloud its contents.  "The oldest son and the oldest daughter from each house of Caraway and Darwin will be wed when the youngest party has reached their eighteenth birthday."  There was something in those words.  He knew there was.  He read them again.  "The firstborns from each house.  The oldest son… him.  The oldest daughter…Elaine's sister. 

            Elaine's sister.

            Elaine's _younger_ sister.  God he was an idiot!  A complete buffoon!  How could he have not seen that!?  He almost blushed with the embarrassment of it, and he would have had he not been allowing himself a moment of joy.  From before he was born he had been meant for Elaine!  Or rather, Princess Elaina, who everyone thought was dead.  Which was why he was now being forced to marry Rene!  Since everyone thought that Princess Elaina was dead, they believed Princess Rene to now be the oldest. 

            "HaHa!!"  He allowed himself a victory yelp.  For he was contracted to marry the oldest princess of Darwin, who was not Princess Rene, and who was very much alive. 

            Prince Jon burst from the library, document in hand and strode briskly down the stone hallways.  He knew he had to show this to Elaine right away.  He wouldn't let her wait this time.  He couldn't wait himself. 

            But in all his hurry, he didn't see the door opening to his right, and before he could stop, it had opened right onto his face.  He dropped to the floor, dropped the parchment, and grabbed his now bleeding and aching nose.

            "Oh my!  I'm so sorry Jonathan.  How could I have been so clumsy!"  A woman knelt down beside Prince Jon, her voluminous skirts puffing up around her tiny waist and arms.  Her bony fingers waved frantically in front of her face as if she were about to faint, and she fidgeted nervously around his nose, looking for some way to help. He looked up through his open fingers at the pale image of Queen Tabitha. 

            "No, no.  It's no problem.  I wasn't watching where I was going.  I'm quite all right.  Please, you'll wrinkle your dress."  She stood quickly, looking quite horrified at the prospect of spoiling her starched and stiff appearance.  She was, as always, dressed in the darkest of blacks, and had her long strikingly red hair pulled back tightly.  The color of her dress and hair made her appear paler than any healthy person should be, and the grim set of her lips always made him feel as if disaster lurked just behind every- single- corner. 

            "I really am exceedingly sorry boy.  I hope you won't take this out on my lovely Rene?"

            "Of… of course not.  And I'm quite all right.  Really.  But I do have some very urgent business to attend to. So…"  She gave him a curt nod, no spoken reply, and sharply turned in the opposite direction and walked away.  As he watched her retreating figure, he had the sudden realization that Elaine had her mother's eyes.  How could the same eyes hold such different souls?  How could eyes like Elaine's hold the murderous depths he knew lurked behind the murky waters of her mother's eyes? 

            It hit him hard, taking all breath from him, depriving him of life itself it seemed.  He was glad that he had not yet stood from his sitting position on the cold stone floor. He could not ask Elaine to marry him.  That would only be thinking of his own happiness, that would only be selfish.  He would take the document to her; share with her the horrible ironies of life.  He wouldn't keep it from her that they had once been betrothed. 

            But they were no longer.  Now he was betrothed to Princess Rene.  Because Princess Elaina was dead.  Dead by her mother's hands.  To reveal that Princess Elaina had survived in the form of the gypsy storyteller Elaine would be to endanger her once more. And he couldn't do that; he had just saved her!  Even if it meant marrying a woman he did not love, he would keep Elaine's secret until every breath had left his body. 

            As he stood, he decided that breathing was highly overrated.


	14. “Come on… Crush me”

Almost there. I just keep writing!  Sorry.  One more entry after this and I'll have finished my short, alternate ending.  I really like the characters and would like to use them for more stories.  I have plans for Princess Rene. Hehe. Well, hope you like it, it's kinda choppy.  Oh yeah, there's some weird lines in this, and I couldn't figure out how to make them go away. The story's not divided at these parts. It's just an annoying mistake.

"Come on… Crush me"  Dave, Crush

            Elaine woke up from the comfort of her own bed.  Her cheek clung to one soft pillow and a thin blanket was draped lightly around her skirts and legs.  _Strange,_ she thought, _I'm pretty sure I don't remember falling asleep.  _She opened her eyes fully, rolled over onto her back and stared down the length of herself to her toes, to the end of the bed, and finally, to the chair at the end of the bed that was currently occupied by a scowling Prince.  She scowled back in return, briefly thinking that that was no way to bid anyone a good morning.  But it wasn't morning.  Those were not the groggy colors of dawn that rested outside her window, but rather the fierce burning colors of a dying day. 

            "What happened?" asked the prince.  "I found you lying under an apple tree, asleep.  Dead for all practical purposes, seeing as how you've slept for two more hours since I put you in your bed.  You didn't even wake up when I picked you up and carried you into the cottage.  Or even when I dropped you down the hill!"

            "You dropped me down the hill!  Wait, what hill?"  She scowled even harder as his scowl turned to a grin.  Of course there was no hill.  "You liar."

            "Just the dropping you down a hill part.  Elaine… are you okay?" 

            Elaine didn't want to tell him that she hadn't been sleeping lately.  Since the enchantment, her sleep had been plagued by strange and horrible visions that would wake her every dark, inky night, sweating from fear and crying out for it all to stop.  So she had decided that she didn't need to sleep.  And ever since then, she would go without until, useless from utter exhaustion, she would drop wherever she was, no matter what she was doing.  This exhausted sleep was blessedly dreamless. 

            The prince examined her face closely, seeing dark circles around her eyes and a weariness that should never be there.  "Are you sleeping?" he asked.  She might as well tell him.  What could he do about it?  He listened quietly while she explained to him her need to wear herself out so thoroughly; to never sleep unless she absolutely had to.  She didn't tell him about how horrible the nightmares were.  She wouldn't let him think her so weak as to be affected by silly dreams.

            "So you're not sleeping."

            "Yes.  I'm sleeping.  Just sporadically," she defended her system.  But the Prince could dwell no longer on the current subject.  He was too impatient.  Pulling the marriage contract from his pocket, he handed it to Elaine who was now sitting against her headboard.  "What's this?"

            "Read it."  Giving him a curious glance, she set her eyes firmly to the brown parchment and read aloud.

            "In this, the fifth year of the rule of King Robert of Darwin, and the third year of the rule of King Thomas of Caraway, an agreement has been made. King Robert and King Thomas, in an effort to unite their quarreling kingdoms, will unite forever, their blood and lineage."  She stopped here, wondering why the prince would make her read the document that bound him to another.

"Go on.  Read the next sentence."  She didn't look at him, yet continued to read in a strong and steady voice.

 "The oldest son and the oldest daughter from each house of Caraway and Darwin will be wed when the youngest party has reached their eighteenth birthday." She looked up and placed the paper gently in her lap, looking at it as if it had sprouted wings or started talking.  "Oh." Was all she said.  She saw, with the first reading, what it had taken Prince Jon weeks to realize.  So he had found a way to get out of the marriage, or rather, not get out of it, but to change it.  She looked at him, expecting him to, at any moment, wrap his arms around her and proclaim his mission a success.  But he never did.  They both just sat, looking anywhere but at the other.

"You're the oldest sister."

"Yes."

"This document originally pertains to you… marrying me."

"It would seem so."

"I won't ask you to reveal your secret."

She could say nothing to this.  She found herself wishing he would ask her.  But that would be ridiculous and they both knew it.  He could never marry a princess disowned by her family, even if he was contracted to do so, and she refused to give her mother another chance to kill her.  It was better (wasn't it?) that Princess Elaina remain dead. 

"I'm sorry." Was all she could manage.

"No. It's not your fault.  Fate is truly twisted don't you think. This is the only way I can truly protect you."  Prince Jon rose from his chair and sat down on the bed beside her.  "Please Elaine, sleep.  If you fall out of an apple tree or drown while bathing in the river, well… then I've just sacrificed my happiness for nothing now haven't I." 

            He left.

  "There's an emptiness inside her, and she'd do anything to fill it in."

            The Prince was marrying in two days.  Elaine walked through the main street of the little village that lay right outside the castle gates and could not shake the horrible thought.  She might have been able to; she was usually able to achieve everything she put her mind to.  But today, every whisper, loud and silent carried the same message.  Banners were tied from balconies on one side of the tiny dirt streets to balconies on the other.  All proclaimed the joyous news of Caraway's good fortune.  The people were to gain in two days, a princess and future queen.  Trade would open up between them and the people of Darwin, and both countries would prosper.  It was truly a day for celebration.

            Elaine had stormed from her cottage, taking just enough time to grab a light cloak. It was a suffocating article of clothing to be wearing in the summer heat, but the people of the village had known of her close friendship with the Prince.  There had been rumors of course, which they had both stubbornly ignored, and she didn't want any questions, looks of pity, or offerings of congratulations for her friend. 

She needed to find Damian.  The problem was, she had no idea where he lived.  She had been there only once, and had been very much unconscious on her arrival.  And when she had left his house, it had been during the dark of night.  She stopped the first person she encountered in the village.  "Excuse me."  The old woman looked up at the tall figure of a young girl. It was obvious who she was: the storyteller.  Even with that ridiculously inappropriate cloak, anyone could tell it was the gypsy girl.  But perhaps she didn't wish to be bothered. 

"Yes?" asked the old woman.  She was stooped with age and had her long white hair pulled into a thick bun at the nape of her neck.

"Could you tell me where Damian lives?"  Elaine hoped that the first name was all she needed. 

"The old wizard?  Of course, everyone knows where he lives.  But I'm afraid you won't find him there today."

"Well then, where is he?" Elaine pulled the loose hood of the cloak tighter around her mouth and nose, leaving just her dark eyes peeping out from the filmy white folds of material.  There was an edge to her voice.  She needed Damian.  She needed someone, and he was all she had.  Where was he?

            "Why sweetheart," said the old woman gently, sensing the desperate need in Elaine's voice, "You're not thinking clearly.  Damian is the young prince's Godfather and a most trusted advisor to the king.  He's spent every day and night for the past week on the palace grounds, where he's needed, for the wedding you know."  The old woman reached out a hand and placed it on Elaine's arm, wondering what reaction she would get by mentioning the prince's eminent betrothal.  Like everyone else in the village, the old lady had seen the two together.  But she had always disagreed and refuted the vicious gossips who insisted they were lovers.  She knew better.  They had none of that comfort.  Instead there was always an electricity between them, an energy with so much potential it was hard to be within twenty yards of them when they were together.  But that was just her, she knew the others could not sense or see this.  She pitied the poor girl standing before her, shrouded as if in death in a cloak of snowy white.

            Elaine stood stone still.  She neither trembeled nor swooned.  She stood her ground and hardened her heart.  She would always hear about him.  The villagers loved him, for he was a good man, and they would soon be praising the virtues of his wife. She wouldn't let these things get to her.  She had lived twenty years of her life without the prince and could live the next twenty just as well.  She had come this far; she had survived.  She would not now let mere words kill her now.

            If she could just get to Damian.

            But she couldn't.  His first obligation, responsibility, love, was to his godson.  She was but a project he had picked up some years ago because he felt sorry for the poor little girl whose mother hated her.  The only person whom she truly had any right to was dead, killed by fire.  No, not just killed, murdered.  Elaine started walking, she didn't know when.  But she had eventually realized that the old woman was no longer beside her and that her feet were moving, seemingly of their own accord.  No.  She was moving them, there was no magic here, no magic coursing through her.  There was only the busy noise of everyday.  There were carts, merchants, musicians, children, mothers.  No magic except for that normal extraordinary spell that the rhythm of daily life weaves over all. 

            She did not know where she was going.  She didn't much care.  So she let her feet control her direction while her thoughts followed a different track.  She now knew herself to be completely alone.  There was no one to talk to.  There was no one to give her advice.  But was not this the life she had chosen?  Solitude and reclusion.  She wandered until her feet found their way to a low stonewall on the outskirts of the village. 

            She remembered.  It had been the first thing she had encountered in this town.  It was a lovely little wall, with stones of all shapes and sizes.  It was dark and weathered and covered with brooding green moss.  She had been traveling with a band of gypsies.  Yes, she was quite good friends with the gypsies, though she could never truly be one.  Gypsies had no home but the road, and that's the way they preferred it.  But Elaine, Elaine wanted a home.  She had been delighted with the little wall, the quiet friendly town.  And then there had been the cottage. 

            But that brought her thoughts back to Damian.  For it had been he who had come to her in her dreams, telling her of the place, sensing her restlessness with the traveling life of a gypsy rogue. 

            She sat on the wall, and leaned against an old aging tree that had grow to be friends with the stonewall; both leaning on each other for support.  She looked up and for the first time realized that it was pitch black outside.  How that had escaped her notice, she could not tell.  The stars shone brightly.  It seemed that they too were celebrating the upcoming event.  Elaine let herself slip off the wall and curled up in the corner created by it and the tree.  It was small and hidden and she felt protected. The darkness covered her like thick blankets and she pulled her thin cloak tightly around her, though not from being cold.  Who could be cold on a stifling summer night such as this?  She should sleep.  She wasn't tired.  She had slept forever earlier.  But that had been because she had dropped from sheer fatigue.  He had told her to sleep.  He had meant not when she must, but when she should. Night was the proper time people slept wasn't it?  She should do as he told her.  He was sacrificing his happiness for her protection.  The least she could do was sleep.  So she closed her eyes and willed sleep to take her.  And it did, quickly.

            
            Elaine was once again in the woods where she had lived sixteen years of her life in a small cottage with a woman she loved as a mother.  The cottage burned viciously, illuminating the forest with an eerie glow.  She knew her Nana was inside the cottage.  She knew that she would burn alive if she stepped anywhere near the blaze.  But she felt drawn to it.  And so she came closer and closer.  The air was acrid with smoke and her futile gasps for breath left her worse off than before.  But, oddly, she felt that if she could just enter the house, penetrate the fire, then she would be all right; she would be safe.  So, without a single gulp of air, she held her breath, steeled herself for the inevitable, agonizing pain she knew would come momentarily, and stepped into the inferno. 

            And she was safe.  The fire burned all around her, but never touched her.  Instead, it danced, almost playfully, above her skin, tickling her every sense.  The sensation was amazing, but Elaine could give no time to it.  For all of her attention was focused squarely on the figure of a woman before her.  Elaine knew the woman, though she looked different than when she had last seen her; she looked younger. 

            "Nana?"

            "Come here Elaina," beckoned the wavering apparition.  Elaine stepped closer, and the young woman before her, shinning in the flames of the house fire, took her hand.  "You are here to face your past, but you cannot do so in this dream world."

            "What do you mean?  Why not?"

            "Because your past is still alive, those that have wronged you still live in triumph over you.  You must face your past, your demons, in the real world."

            "But I've faced them!  Through the dreams I watched my mother throw herself down the stairs just to kill me!"

            "You experienced those dreams while under a heavy enchantment.  The magic that interlaced your sleep wove those visions.  They were not normal dreams, surely a child so attuned to magic could of sense such a thing."  And Elaine had.  She had never had such vivid and real dreams in all her life; never before had they been so horrible.  "And I, dear beloved girl, am no more a real dream than those visions were, or, even than Damian was."  Elaine remembered how the old magician had come to her as a child, after the fire, after anything bad in her life, to comfort her.  She remembered meeting him, finally, the real him, and sensing the immense magic that surrounded him, the same magic that surrounded her Nana now. 

            "So… are you a ghost? I saw you die in the fire.  This fire."

            "I am not a ghost.  Dear girl, I did not die in that fire."

            "What!  That can't be.  I spent years grieving over your death, years hating your murderers, and you're not dead!  I've been alone!  You left me alone."

            "Do not be angry that I've tricked you.  It was necessary.  It was for your own good."

            "Necessary?  For my own good?  How can causing me so much pain do any good for me?!"  Elaine didn't know where to turn, what to say.  She had lived on her grief and hate for so long that Nana's words were tipping her whole world upside down. 

            "Tell me child, before you start directing your hate towards me, has your life since the fire been so horrible?  Have you not been watched over, provided for?  Have you not been loved?"  And the faces of all those she had met since that fiery night four years ago flashed before her mind's eye: the children who listened raptly to her stories, the women who gossiped with her, the young men who chased her, the wise old eyes of Damian, and the Prince. 

            "No. Life has not been horrible.  And I know I should be happy just to be alive.  I've spent my life hiding from enemies; I shouldn't have even survived for birth.  But I'm unhappy Nana.  Life is unfair."

            "Ah.  Now you sound just like my little twelve year old Elaina.  It's not fair.  Of course it's not.  But have you ever considered turning the tables on it?  Some things are set in stone Elaine, and others are not.  I'm disappointed in you."  Nana shot a reproachful look at her Goddaughter.  "Where's the courageous girl who once punched Teddy Wilson in the nose for calling her an ugly crow?"  Elaine allowed herself a smile.

            "That really was the most absurd and uncalled for insult.  But he did regret it.  And later, he actually had the nerve to ask me if he could court me!"  Elaine came back suddenly from her memory, pushing aside all of her godmother's attempts to… to… what exactly was it that her godmother was trying to do anyway?!  "Courage?  I've lost none of my courage."

            "Really?  Then prove it.  Stop running."

            "Stop running?"

            "Have you really grown that thick girl?"  Elaine scowled.  "You've been running from your mother your whole life, hiding from her.  And now you finally have the chance to stand up for her, to take back the life you were born to, and you just walk away.  Or rather, you let him walk away."

            "There was no other choice."

            "There wasn't?  I say there was.  You were just too scared to make it."

            "He didn't ask me to make it.  He showed me the paper, make sure I understood that I was the one who he was originally and rightfully supposed to marry him, and then walked away.  He never once asked me to reveal my secret."

            "Why would he?  He's trying to protect you.  But you are both fools for not taking happiness.  It's offered to so few, and you two just throw it away because of a few trifling difficulties.  I mean, the boy has an army at his beck and call and he doesn't even once stop to think that he can protect you himself from an aging queen."

            "Well…"

            "And you, my dear girl, are being stubbornly selfish."

            "So I'm a coward and I'm selfish."

            "Yes.  Do you realize that you're condemning that young boy to a very unhappy life.  Marriage to anyone but you will make him blooming miserable.  Some people can pull it off you know, marriage to someone other than their soul mate.  But he is definitely not one."

            "How do you know?  She may make him happy." 

            "Ha!  And will marriage to anyone else make you happy?"  Elaine tried defiance, but her face fell into a jumbled mess of frowning that gave it all away.  "No. No you won't.  And you know why?  Because you both are dreamers.  What are you?  You've grown to be a storyteller, believing and seeing magic wherever you go.  You crave the life of fairy tales.  And the Prince, has he ever told you what he was doing the day he first wandered into your cottage?  He was looking for an adventure.  Silly isn't it.  For a grown man to be riding aimlessly in search of a little magic and adventure. 

            "And he found a storyteller who looked like a gypsy.  And he stopped searching."  She paused here, and looked with loving eyes on the beautiful woman before her, the woman she had raised and loved still as a daughter.  "I love you Elaine.  I want you to be happy.  Now please, go stop that young prince from marrying the wrong princess."

            The fire around her melted away in a blur of golden dusty light.  And as Elaine opened her eyes, she realized that she had slept the entire night nuzzled up in between the old stonewall and gnarled tree.  Stretching her cramped limbs, she stood up and looked down the road that led away from Caraway.  She paced the width of the road back and forth for a few minutes, thinking about her dream, letting the fact sink in that her godmother lived.  And though the thought made her heart leap and the day seem brighter, she was still angry with the trick her Nana had played.  Why couldn't she have let Elaine know?  Why leave her suffering and it grief? 

But she'd address that matter if she ever saw the old woman again.  Right now she had to think through something she believed had already been settled: the matter between her and the prince.  The prince's marriage was to be held at the sun's first light tomorrow morning, and she had roughly twenty four hours to figure out her plan of action.

Setting her chin firmly in the air and balling her fists decidedly, she turned her back on the road before her and instead strode into the forest.  It was the most direct route to the Prince's castle. 


	15. Am i right side up or upside down?

Hey, thanks for the great reviews. I'm almost done with this version, then I'll be able to start on the alternate and longer version.  Haha. I'm crazy.  But hey, someone said something about contradictions.  I'm interested in knowing what they are.  So I can fix them.  I'm always interested in anything that can help my writing.  Fairygypsy is also my fictionpress name.  So… oh yeah, and if you'll e-mail me about those contradictions.  My address is gymnastwhithotmail.com.  I don't care if anyone e-mails me.  I should post my address in my bio I guess. So, here goes…

  "Am I right side up or upside down?"

            The Prince sat around a large table having breakfast with his family.  He sat at one end, his father at the other, of a very long, very dark oak table. It was heavy and strong.  Stronger than he felt at the moment.  Damian sat to his left and to his right, his blushing bride.  But she wasn't blushing.  The Princess Rene sat cooling and calmly, sipping soup delicately from a golden spoon.  Her hair was slicked back perfectly into a sleek waterfall down her back.  Not a single strand dared to rebel against the single golden circlet perched on her perfect head.  Her icy blue eyes, the same color as her father's eyes who sat across the table from her, stared unblinkingly in front of her. 

            His stomach heaved and flipped, threatening to spill out its sparse contents all over the ancient table.  Swallowing slowly, he closed his eyes and took a single deep breath.  He could do this.  He would do this.  But didn't running away and stealing his gypsy sound so much better?  So much easier?  Yes… easy.  And he would never take the coward's way out.  Besides, he had obligations to his people.  He couldn't abandon them without an heir to the throne.  And his father… his father had already lost his wife ten years ago, what would he do if he also lost his son?

            No.  Running away was not an option, no matter how attractive the idea was.

            The room was quiet.  No one was talking, and that was making Prince Jon even more nervous.  The quiet before the storm he thought. 

            And he was right.  For no more than a second after than rather ominous thought, there was a clatter of stone and metal at the doors to the breakfast hall.  A moment later, the heavy doors were thrown open to reveal one of the palace guards.  He was dressed in his formal uniform, full out metal armor, and it had been the clanking of his dress against itself and the stones of the palace floor that he ran on that had made all the noise.  The man bowed, an amusing sight for someone whose movements are somewhat constricted, and spoke.

            "Your Highness, there is a problem at the gates."  Alarmed, King Thomas' head perked up and his back straightened to the consistency of a metal rod. 

            "A problem?  What is it?"

            "There is a girl, she demands to see you… and the prince this very instant.  She has placed herself directly in front of the gate and refuses to move until you come to her, or until we bring her to you."

            "Who is?  Has she said?  What does she want?" asked the king.

            "She won't say. But…" At this, the guard looked a bit unsure of himself.  His eyes glazed over and his mouth pursed together as if in thought.  "But… she did say.  You're highness…  I believe she is insane."

            "What did she say man?!  Spit it out!  The king was losing his patience, his curiosity and worry taking a trying toll on it.  Damian had leaned back in his chair, a strangely calm look of… of almost satisfaction about his eyes and lips.  King Robert and his wife both looked on in interest, the king with furrowed brows, the queen with a glint of amusement in her eyes.  Prince Jon had lost the queasy feeling in his stomach and was listening sharply to every word the guard said concerning the young girl at the gates, and… and the Princess Rene sat, calmly, eating her soup. 

            The guard answered his king.  "She said, your majesty, that she was the Princess Rene's sister."

            King Thomas leaned back, confused, just as two others at the table, shot from their chairs, both speaking at once.  Queen Tabitha clutched to the side of the table, her finger's whitening. "I have no other daughter," she said coldly.

            "The girl is lying.  My only living daughter sits at this table," said the Queen's husband.  Another voice entered the fray, speaking above all others. 

            "Do not let her in!" came the fervent command from Prince Jon.  Everyone in the room turned toward him, wondering why he should care so much.  The King, ever inquisitive, cleared his throat and turned back toward the guard.

            "Bring her to me," he said.  The guard turned and noisily exited the room, leaving an uneasy silence over all.  Everyone had now turned to stare at King Thomas, all with various emotions overcoming their features.  But all requested one thing, for him to explain his actions.  Without much ceremony, he proceeded, taking a muffin from a plate; he waved it in the air, as if trying to dismiss all the negative energy that now surrounded them all.  "It could not hurt, I think, to have a look at so curious a subject that has caused, it seems, much strange and agitated interest."  With that, the subject was dropped. 

            The King looked up and around the table after taking a sip of his soup.  Everyone was intent in their breakfast now, or pretending to be.  His son did not look good at all, his face had turned a pasty white and he had pushed his chair away from the table and was staring absently at a spot in front of him on the table.  The Princess it seemed had never stopped eating during the whole episode.  Maybe only to lift her head as her mother had jumped from her seat. 

            Old Damian was staring darts at King Thomas.  The two men's gazes met and King Thomas quickly dropped his eyes back to his bowl.  Damian's eyes never left the form of the King.  And King Thomas had a good guess why.  They both knew the real reason he had requested the girl's presence at the table this morning.  It was not just idle curiosity.  No, that was just an act.  Both men knew that there was indeed a second and older Princess of Darwin.  Both men had helped her father secret her away and kept her secret.  But only one of the men knew that she still lived.  And the king, the king believed that she had perished in the fire when she was sixteen years old. 

The same night his old nurse had perished in the fire.  Lillian had been a mother to him, and she had willingly volunteered to raise the endangered princess.  And old Damian, King Robert's mentor from boyhood, had agreed to take her place and give guidance to the young prince Jon of Caraway. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud clattering of the palace guard's formal uniform.  Any moment he would stare into the eyes of a mad woman, or a fortune hunter, or any other form of poor soul that would try to pull herself off as the dead princess.  The guard entered, and another guard close behind him, but both were empty handed, neither pushed or shoved a young wild-eyed maiden through the large wooden doors. 

"Where is she?" demanded Prince Jon frantically.

            Elaine walked down the halls of the palace.  It was the first one she had ever been in.  But it's white stones and bright tapestries held no interest for her.  She had refused to be drug down the hallway by the two men, and the guards were scared to manhandle someone who might very well be a princess.  So she walked slowly behind the encumbered and rigidly dressed guards.  If her thoughts hadn't been otherwise occupied she might very well have been holding in giggles at their obvious discomfort in their metal armor.  But today, this humorous sight went as unnoticed as the walls and tapestries.  She was vaguely aware of some large barrier looming ahead of her, large and dark.  A door.  Of course it was a door.  And the guards were opening it. She absently wondered what was behind the wooden door. 

            But of course she already knew what, or rather who, was behind it.  She dropped quickly out of her senseless fog and everything came rushing in to her at once.  She could hear and feel and see everything acutely and it took her breath from her. 

            She still had time to turn around, time to run and hide forever, time to go somewhere where she would never have to hear of the prince or her father or mother ever again.  She was on the verge of turning, on the verge of doing that very thing, when she heard his voice.  The prince's frantic words floated through the doorway and into the stuffy hallway.  "Where is she?"

            She couldn't run.  She was done with running, she had decided that this morning, she had realized that even in those rare moments when she could not protect herself, that Prince Jon would always be there, and that helpful little army of his, though she hoped she would never really need them.  This flippant thought restored her confidence and gave her the courage to face her past, and hopefully, her future. 

            So, with chin lifted and mouth set in a firm look of defiance, she entered the room. They were all seated together, apparently having breakfast.  The familial scene before her- mothers, fathers, and the bride and groom to be- only gave strength to her decision.  Here she was in turmoil, and those who had put her there were leisurely having breakfast! 

She stood tall before them.  She hadn't thought about how she looked, she usually never did, but she looked as wild as the gypsy the prince claimed she was.  Her dark hair was wild and curly from her night outside and was a stark contrast to the snowy white of the cloak she had wrapped herself in before leaving her cottage the day before.  She was dressed in a simple deep red gown that clung to her upper arms and waist and twirled wide about her legs and hands.  The fierce determination in her eyes set her face aflame and there would be some that would say that her beauty at that moment rivaled even that of her sister's.  She remained silent, inspecting each person at the table as intently as they inspected her.  She recognized her father and mother, though age had added lines to the youthful faces she had seen in her dreams. 

Her father, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, sat like a stone, drinking in the form of the young girl he knew to be his daughter.  His wife sat just as still as her husband with a look just as cold as she was still and her eyes slanting in disbelief.  Damian leaned back in his chair, a faint, infuriating smile on his lips.  There was another older man, a man Elaine knew must be Prince Jon's father, and he looked at Elaine sadly, with pity in his kind eyes.  Elaine refused to meet the eyes of the Prince.  She did not know how he would react to her presence, and she did not yet want to know.  There would be plenty of time to pick his brain after she had cleared everything up. 

If she was successful that was.

Prince Jon's father spoke.

"Who are you girl?"  That was easy to answer.

"I am Princess Elaina of Darwin, eldest daughter of King Robert and Queen Tabitha.  I am Elaine.  Gypsy."  Here eyes finally caught those of the prince, who, she realized, had been staring a hole through her since her entrance into the room.

"Elaine, what are you doing?" came the pleading question from the Prince's lips.

"I'm finally telling the truth.  I won't hide anymore.  And I want you to be-"

"Elaine, don't do this for me!"  He was angry, almost screaming now.  "It's not too late, you can still leave, go home, leave this all alone."

"You're wrong.  It is too late.  She's already suspicious.  She'd try to kill me now even if I really wasn't who I say I am."

Enraged, Queen Tabitha jumped from her seat, eyes on fire, shouting.

            "Imposter!  Liar!  She died twenty years ago.  She died in birth!  Guards, take her away, she angers me."

            "Madam!" spoke King Thomas, "My guards are not yours to give orders to.  The girl stays." He turned to Elaine, his expression softening.  "Young lady, my son seems to know you.  I do not believe he would associate with con artists and liars.  Explain yourself, so that some light may be shed on this absurd declaration." Then turning to his son who was now standing and about to speak.  "And you be quiet.  This is her story.  I wish her to tell it, not you."  Prince Jon sat back down.  And after some moments of silence, Elaine began her story. 

            "I'm afraid it's not much of a story.  I only knew it as a story myself until a few weeks ago.  It had never been a reality to me.  But then something happened…" she threw a glance to the prince to see that he was no longer looking at her, but at his soup.  She frowned and decided that she couldn't stall any longer. "A woman named Lillian, a woman I called grandmother raised me until I was sixteen years old.  She told me of my true heritage, my true identity.  But she hid from me the evil machinations and hateful insecurities of my mother.  Well, she tried to.  Just as she tried to hide the fact of my existence from my mother.  But somehow she found out.  I don't know how, and it doesn't matter.  The fact is that I watched Queen Tabitha set fire to the cottage that I had called home for my entire life.  And she did this with the intentions of killing its inhabitants: namely me, and consequently my grandmother.   But where Lillian did not escape, I did.  She sent me away, with charms that would protect me, hide me.  I met some people as I was running.  They were wild, and notorious, and kind.  I followed the gypsies for several years.  But I got tired of traveling; it wasn't in my blood as it was in theirs.  And just when I needed him, this man came to me."  She looked toward Damian who smiled at her encouragingly.  "Damian told me of a cottage, deep in the woods, where I could live, that I could call home.  And that is where Prince Jon found me, or rather, I found him."  For the first time since she had entered the hall, she let her chin fall, and her gaze drift to her feet.  They did not remain there long however.  Soon they snapped up to look at the Prince, the fierceness of her stare forced him to look at her.  "I am the eldest Princess of Darwin.  And I love you."

            The table was silenced.  Not even the imperturbable Princess Rene remained unaffected.

            "Prove your story."  Whispered Queen Tabitha.  Prove to us that you are who you say you are.  Without proof, you are no one."

            She hadn't even considered the possibility that they might not believe her, but now she could see how imperfect her plan had been. "I cannot prove it," spoke Elaine falteringly.  And before she could apologize and run from the room, she was saved.

            "I can prove it," spoke Damian.  "And others here can also prove that she is who she says she is."

            "You lie!  No one here can possibly prove a thing." But her words were drowned out by the acknowledgements from the other two men at the table.

            "I believe she speaks the truth," said King Thomas, his son looking wide-eyed and disbelieving at him.

            "She is my daughter," spoke King Robert, tears welling in his crystal blue eyes. But the Queen would not hear it, jumping from her seat, she wildly faced the two men who had spoken for Elaine. 

            "You all lie! The child is dead!  I saw the house burn, I heard the screams.  I saw it!  I killed the wicked child four years ago, when she had already lived longer than she should have!"

            "No!"  King Robert flew at his wife and grabbed her violently by the shoulders.  "Shut up woman!  Shut up!" 

            King Thomas and Damian jumped from their places at the table and rushed toward King Robert who was frantically shaking his wife.  King Thomas broke the other king's hold while Damian helped the queen to a seat beside Princess Rene. 

            "This must stop!"  Damian spoke resolutely, acquiring the full attention of everyone in the room.  "All this outpouring of emotion will do none of us any good.  I suggest that we all sit and talk, but not at the breakfast table, something's likely to get thrown at someone else, and then the servants will have a mighty time cleaning jam or soup or pudding off the walls.  We are all adults, and will act as such.  King Robert, King Thomas, Prince Jon, Elaine, and I will retire to the council hall while the ladies retire to their rooms."  The queen opened her mouth to protest but was quickly silenced by Damian.  "That is how it shall be.  And I will permit no arguments on the matter."  His voice was solid and final, not even the brash Queen would cross old Damian's final word.  The four he had summoned to a meeting in the council room filed out the heavy oaken doors at the front of the room as the Queen and her beautiful daughter sat, stunned and stony.  Damian turned to face the two women before closing the doors behind him.  "The wedding is off." 

            The doors shut with an echoing crash, sealing Damian's final words in place.

            Elaine found herself being ushered into a room that was even more impressive than the one she had been in before.  Guards held the massive doors open as first Damian then both Kings walked through the doorway, followed finally by Elaine and Prince Jon.  He had paced his own steps to match hers as they walked down the hallway.  He couldn't speak to her.  He couldn't find the words to say yet.  Everything was so muddled.  So he just walked closely to her, letting his hand brush her skirt every once in a while, breathing deeply to see if he could smell her.  He could.  She smelt like trees and dirt.  Had she passed out from fatigue outside again?  He permitted himself one hopeful thought:  _when we're married I'll make sure she sleeps.  _

            But then all thoughts were over as they took various seats around the room and Damian spoke.  "The time has come for all truths to be told, for all lies to be banished.  Who will start?"  They all felt like little children caught in some wrongdoing.  King Robert sat close to Damian and King Thomas at the head of the huge gold embossed table that was the focal point of the giant white room of stone.  Elaine and Jon sat a few seats away, across from each other, looking at their fingers and every once in a while daring to catch the other's gaze.  King Robert stood, and spoke first. 

            "It is my story to tell."  He turned to the youths sitting across from each other, letting his gaze fall pointedly on his lost daughter.  "I knew you were not dead.  But I never thought I'd see you again.  I didn't know what had happened to you.  I had kept close track of you your entire life and then, the night of the fire you just disappeared.  I knew you had escaped.  I told Lillian that Tabitha had found out that you still lived. I knew she'd save you."

            "I'm still slightly confused.  Why didn't she want me?  Why does she love Princess René?"  Elaine, eyes still locked with those of the father she had only just met, needed to know these answers. 

            "When I married your mother, she loved me.  Or rather she had me convinced that she did.  Or maybe I believed she did because I loved her so much that I wanted her to love me too. But whatever the case was, I was soon aware of the fact that she didn't love me at all.  She didn't even like me.  On our wedding night, she refused to come to me.  She avoided me at all costs.  She had brought with her to my castle, her old nursemaid.  Hildy hated me.  I think she hates all men.  I think she hates everyone except for Tabitha and René.  She believed herself to be a witch of some sort; a seer.  She professed to know the future.  She told Tabitha that if she let me get her with child, then that child would be her ruin.  Tabitha was weak minded and believed every word.  I wanted a child very badly, and, I'm ashamed to admit, took advantage of a certain situation."  He looked at his daughter, pleading her with his eyes not to make him tell her how.  She didn't.  "You were born."

            She tried to kill me.  Even before I was born," Elaine interrupted.

            "How do you know that?  Lillian promised me-," he was cut off.

            "She didn't tell me.  I didn't know that my mother despised me until I was sixteen years old and she made a second attempt on my life.  I know because… it's a long story."

            Damian spoke up. "All stories worth telling are.  You should know that young storyteller." Prince Jon let Elaine tell the story.  She told them all about the enchanted princess, the nightmarish sleep. 

            "And then I woke up, and Prince Jon was leaning over me."  They all turned toward the Prince.  The story could not be complete without the harrowing tale of the rescue, which Elaine could not provide because she had been asleep.  He hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the choices he had been faced with.  What if he had made the wrong one?  What if they thought him selfish or unwise?  But there was no getting around it now.  The time had come for all truths to be told. 

            "The enchanted princess gave me a choice.  Four really.  I had four days to find her and when I did, I must kiss her to waken her.  But that wasn't it. Four kisses."  He told them about the condition of each kiss. He told them about the ghosts, about their revelations, their ultimatums.  During his telling, Elaine's eyes had grown wide.  He could see her thoughts churning around inside.  She was questioning him, trying to decide if he would use the fourth kiss or not, if he had used it.  When he came to it, when he said that he had kissed her three times, restoring everything to as it had been before, he was relieved to see that all the uncertaintainty she had shown in him vanished.  She believed him whole-heartedly.  He ended his story with a smile.  "Now that you know how we know about you and your wife, would you finish your story?  I have a couple of questions myself.  Why did you betroth me to Elaine?  Why didn't Damian tell us about all of this?" 

            King Thomas took it upon himself to answer these questions.  "Robert and I grew up together.  We were best friends since we could walk.  I married your mother first.  And we would visit Robert and he would visit us.  These visits ended abruptly after he married Tabitha.  She wouldn't permit it.  I had no idea why she had so much power over him. I still don't know."  He gave King Robert a confused look (Robert would not meet his gaze) and settled back into his tale.  The night you were born Elaine, your father escaped from the castle with you in tow, and rode like the wind until he arrived here at my castle.  Jon was but a few months old.  We knew that you would be in constant danger if you stayed with him.  I offered to keep you here with me, but he wanted you close, so that he could keep an eye on you.  We came up with a plan.  He went home a week after his arrival, bearing news of his daughter's death.  She had been a weak infant, he told everyone, and had died on the trip to a renowned doctor here in Caraway.  Tabitha readily believed the tale.

            "On the same day he left the castle in huge carriage with an escort of twenty soldiers, a woman on a horse left also.  She carried one tiny, precious package with her: you Elaine.  A woman I thought of as a mother, who had been my nurse as a child, a magical woman named Lillian took you to live in the city surrounding your father's palace.  And there you were to live, loved and under the watchful eye of your father until your eighteenth birthday.  On that day, you were to be sent here, to me, and to Jon.  It was part of our plan.  Your father wanted you to have all that was rightfully yours, title, riches, power.  So we wrote up the betrothal contract.  We would hide you away until you were old enough to marry, then we could bring you back, give you all that you had never had but that had rightfully been your due.  You would marry Jon, and we could protect you with guards, armies if necessary."  King Thomas paused to let this all sink in.  He stole a look at his old friend, who seemed to be growing less and less tired with each word that was spoken.  He was gaining his life back with this telling.  King Thomas continued.  "But then Tabitha found out.  She followed Robert one day when he went into the village to watch his oldest daughter.  She saw you, your name not Elaine, but Elaine, but she saw much of herself and her husband in you.  She saw in you a future picture of her younger daughter."

            Elaine interrupted.  "Why does she not hate my sister?  I asked earlier.  No one answered me."  King Robert answered her this time.

            "Hildy again.  Another one of her prophesies.  This one seems to be true however.  Hildy told Tabitha that her second daughter would more than make up for the first.  Were the first was a threat; the second would be just like her mother.  And I'm afraid she is.  Not as emotional, rather cold in fact.  But ruthless nonetheless."  Elaine wondered how Tabitha had gotten her father to have a second child.  She supposed it had been easy.  If he, who had so desperately wanted children, suddenly saw that his wife was willing, how could he protest?  King Robert continued, but in a different vein.  "Tabitha planned to kill you.  I had no idea how she would manage it, but I warned Lillian about it.  I could not stop her myself.  I refused to hit her, to hurt her.  She wanted me to, so that she could have stories to tell about my abusive evilness. I would not give her the satisfaction. 

            "I followed Tabitha, I followed the soldiers she assembled.  I saw you slip out of the cottage and hang the necklace about your neck.  I saw you disappear.  And then I let you go.  I figured that you would be safer if she thought you dead.  I knew Lillian sent you away protected.  She had a wonderful gift for magic. 

            "But then I could not find you.  I started searching two years ago, when you would have been eighteen.  I knew I only had two more years till Rene turned eighteen. Tabitha, who had found the contract years ago, had insisted that it applied to Rene since she believed Elaina to be dead.  I never corrected her. I didn't see the harm in it.  Elaine would be eighteen before her sister.  But then I never found you.  I thought it a lost cause till you walked through the door today.  I knew it was you the minute I saw you.  You've changed little since you were sixteen, except to grow even more beautiful."  Silence befell the table.  All were contemplating the words that had been spoken, that still rung in this magnificent room.  The Prince broke the silence. 

            "So every single one of you knew about this."  They all nodded their heads in the affirmative.  "And no one told either of us?!" 

            "Elaina knew from the beginning.  Lillian told her.  I wanted my daughter to know where she came from.  To know that she was important.  But it was imperative that Tabitha never find out that she still lived.  We had to keep her existence secret.  It was easy after she disappeared." said King Robert.

            "And I did not know that your gypsy friend was the lost princess Elaina!" exclaimed King Thomas. "If I had know, I certainly would not have disapproved of the friendship."  Prince Jon rolled his eyes at this. He loved this princess when she was just a gypsy traveler.  He hadn't cared whether she was royalty or not.  He still didn't.

            "So what does all this mean? What will happen now?" asked the Prince.

            "I came back here for a reason.  I revealed my secret for a reason," spoke Elaine, softly but confidently.  Prince Jon thought he knew her reason, and felt ecstatic just thinking about it. 

            "Things will go on as originally planned," spoke Damian for the first time in a good while.  He had been sitting silently, watching the faces of those around him.

            Prince Jon looked up at Damian, who was now standing at the head of the table, smiling smugly at them all.  "Wait a second!  You knew who Elaine was!  Why didn't you tell my father? Why didn't you tell her father?  Someone!  Why didn't you tell us about the contract?!" 

            "Having the answers, being told what to do, is not what life is.  Life is finding those answers, making your own decisions.  I could not interfere.  I knew, hoped, that things would come full circle, that they would work out."

            "And what if they hadn't!"  Elaine spoke now, joining her indignation to Prince Jon's.  "What if I had ran away this morning!  What if we had never met, if I had continued to travel with the gypsies!"  Damian could not answer her.  He knew that both the young prince and princess were angry.  Their happiness had almost slipped away.  And then there was the fact that they still hadn't been able to answer each other's questions.  They hadn't been able to affirm the other' s guesses and thoughts.  Damian was relieved when both Elaine and Jon stormed from the room.  Elaine followed Prince Jon past the confused guards on the other side of the door and, turning around, slammed the door with all her strength and might.  It wasn't much in comparison to the massive doors. But the noise it made echoed all around her, and made her feel a bit better. 


	16. I'll do my best for you, i do love

"I'll do my best for you, I do love." Another dave lyric. This time from "Rapunel."  Fun.  There should only be one more chapter after this. But then… how many times have I said that?! Oh well.  I've started to post it on fictionpress. But haven't yet had time to write much more.  But it has changed. Chapter  nine is different, and nothing will be the same after it.  So… enjoy.

"You fell asleep outside again didn't you," said Prince Jon.  He and Elaine had angrily stormed their way down the white hallways until they found a place where Prince Jon swore they would be safe from interruption.  It was a hallway, lined with full length portraits of different men and women.  Kings and Queens to be exact.  Prince Jon had brought Elaine to the portrait gallery with the reassurance that no one came to this part of the castle because the likenesses of dead men staring coldly from oil paintings was considered slightly creepy. 

            Elaine had been pacing, frustrated, back and forth in front of the paintings as if she were the leader of an army, about to deliver a speech before leading her men into war.  She stopped and looked down the long hallway at the prince who had been standing in one spot since they entered the room. Her eyebrows knitted together.  "Yes.  I did."

            "Elaine.  You need to sleep regularly, you can't just let yourself go on until you drop form exhaustion!  You're hurting yourself.  But then, you do seem to be into that sort of thing lately."  The turned his eyes from hers to stare icily at some distant grandfather who, poor man, had done nothing to be stared at in such a way. 

            Elaine ignored the comment about her sleeping habits.  He really did go on about the most unimportant things!  And why had he accused her of hurting herself!

"What is that supposed to mean?!  How else, pray tell, am I hurting myself?"

            "You came back here," was the prince's only answer.

            "Did you not wish me to come?  Did you not wish for my secret to be known?"

            "Yes and no.  Respectively."  The Prince leaned against a wall and slid down to a sitting position against it.  He stretched his long legs out in front of him and stared blankly.  Elaine stood, no longer pacing, at the opposite end of the hallway.  She stared at the prince, chewing on her lower lip and fidgeting with the sleeves of her dress. 

            "I'm afraid you still have me confused.  Care to explain it all to me with as much detail and thoroughness that our fathers used a moment ago?"  Her voice held all the confidence she did not feel or show.  The thanked the Lord that he wasn't looking at her, or he'd see just what a coward she really was. 

He said nothing.  He just continued to stare. 

Elaine, gathering her courage, walked softly to where he was sitting and knelt before him, seated herself comfortably and organized her skirt conservatively about her legs.  She said nothing, for she knew he would talk, he just need time, a moment or two to sort out his thoughts.  So that is what she gave him.  And soon, the silence was broken.

"I wanted you.  But I could not have you because I was supposed to marry your sister."  Prince Jon let loose a small, disgusted snort.  "So the only thing I could do to keep you, was to keep your secret.  I felt that as long as I was able to keep you safe, then in some strange way, you were mine.  And now the secret is out, and your probably in danger from your psychotic mother."  He was frowning. 

Elaine laughed, a deep, melodious laugh that seemed to be tinted with magic, and succeeded in deepening the Prince's frown.  "I have come to believe that the male species is incredibly dense!  You sit here and pout about being denied the chance to save me, when I have given you a golden opportunity to do so!  Silly Jonboy."  She stopped momentarily, smiling to herself, she liked the teasing and affectionate nickname.  She would have to store it away for later use.  "Do you not believe yourself capable of protecting me from one very tiny lady who is getting on in years?  And worse!  Do you not have faith in me!?  I'm offended Prince.  Anything you can do, I can certainly do better."  She stuck her chin in the air and smirked down her nose at the bewildered Prince who, if Elaine was reading his countenance right, was finally coming to a logical thought process, putting two and two together, and deciding that four was not such a bad answer. 

"You cannot."  Said the prince defiantly.  He stood up, preferring not to have this gypsy looking down on him, and towered above her, staring down into her dark laughing eyes.  "I will obviously have to keep you from running head first into danger, as you think you are prepared to meet it.  Take today for instance; since you spoiled my plan to keep you safe, I will have to improvise.  Now, I admit that it was rather a faulty plan to begin with but…"

"Ha!  Of course it was faulty.  It left out the most important stipulation."  She looked up at him, the smile from her eyes, overflowing to her lips.  "That we be together."  She knew he loved her.  But when the man you love has been betrothed to quite a beautiful girl, cursed and irrational doubts do sometimes rear their ugly heads.  She let her smile falter slightly as she said these words, grabbing her lower lip with her teeth.  But she wasn't kept in agonizing suspense for very long.

Quickly, Prince Jon lifted her to her feet and took both her hands in his own.  "Yes.:" he said, "It was a very bad plan indeed.  But then even the most genius minds do have their off days."  Elaine rolled her eyes, but let her smile find it's way back to her face. 

            "If I play to your vanity," Elaine stated seriously, "and do not rebuff your idea of being a genius, will you kiss me?"  It was Prince Jon's turn to smile. 

            "You could not stop me from kissing you if you told me I was the village idiot.  Which I'm not."  Elaine threw her head back in a laugh of pure happiness, and when she came up to catch her breath, found herself in quite a different breathtaking activity.  Her arms went about the prince's neck, her fingers to his hair as he pulled her closer to him, almost as if he was afraid she would run off or disappear. When the kiss finally stopped, a breathing break was required. Prince Jon rested his forehead on Elaine's hair and brought one roving hand up to caress her cheek. Their eyes were closed, leaving sight behind in an attempt to more acutely remember every detail of sound and smell. 

            But another pair of eyes was watching the tender scene with cold disinterest.  "Are you two quite done already?" Princess Rene was never good at waiting.

            Prince Jon loosened his grip on Elaine to step forward, just as Elaine's grip tightened.  Without a word, she made her meaning to him clear.  _No.  Do not protect me. This fight is my own.  _And realizing that there was truth in this, Prince Jon let her step forward, hoping all the while that there would be no fight. 

            Elaine stopped directly in front of her sister.  In some ways, it was like looking in a mirror.  But the features were distorted.  Their noses were the same, the shape of their eyes, the point of their chins all the same.  But where Elaine's hair curled wildly and darkly down her back, Rene's hair fell straight and smooth down hers; a silky chestnut and auburn waterfall.  Blue eyes gazed distantly at black ones that held no distance at all, but fire, and fear, and life.  Elaine's skin looked rough and hardened next to her sister. But they were both beautiful; though they were invariably different in appearance, personality, and all other qualities apparent to the blind eye of humans, they both carried a uniqueness, a defiant spirit that lifted their chins and steeled their eyes. 

            "No matter what our mother says, I have done neither of you harm.  I've never even known you.   How can a child, who hasn't even been born, hurt anyone?  You have no reason to hate me."  Elaine felt confidant in her words, though as Rene's frozen face remained unmoved, she began to wonder.  Had she done harm to this girl before her?  Had Princess Rene also been in love with the Prince?  Elaine's gaze faltered for just an instant, but in that moment Rene left her spot in front of her long lost sister and began to walk the long portrait room.  She walked calmly, staring at pictures of the prince's ancestors without really looking at them at all.  Her cool voice floated across the hall along with the echo of her light footsteps on the carpeted stone. 

            "No.  You have done me no great disservice.  Helped me rather.  Though I was not going to oppose this little match, it was not my ideal.  I do not wish to share whatever power I come into, and if I had married your poor prince, I would have had to dispose of him sooner or later.  You see, complete power is my goal and you, dear Prince Jon, are not the type to fold over and simply do as I say.  A puppet." Her words rang in the hallway, and in the intent ears of her two-person audience.  "A puppet is what I desire.  Killing is too involved, too complicated.  It is not ideal." She stopped her pointless walking and portrait gazing and turned to stare at Elaine and Jon.  She heaved an emotionless sigh.  "There is my mother however.  She hates you you know.  Because of some silly prophecy that her deranged nurse gave her years and years ago.  She was wild when I took her to her chambers earlier."  Rene noticed the worried faces of the prince and her sister.  "But don't worry, she does not know I'm here, or that you are here.  She's not actually aware of anything at the moment.  I put a sleeping draught in her water.  You can trust me that she will not awaken till we are already back home in Darwin.  Haha!  It may even be several weeks before she awakes. I've never used this particular herb as a sleeping draught before.  I have no idea of its effectiveness and so I used more than I usually would have."

            "You drugged your own mother?" interrupted Jon. 

            With a slight smirk the princess answered.  "I have, and I will the next time it is needed.  I love her you see, and she's quite mad sometimes.  And, you'll be happy to know, I have no intentions of her gallivanting around all the kingdoms in search of a way to kill her eldest daughter because of a prophecy from an old lunatic.  Besides, I rather like you Elaina.  Or do you still prefer to be called Elaine?  It doesn't matter, I shall call you what I please.  The point is, you are willing death and danger to go after what you want.  I find that a very commendable trait, even if what you are going after is love.  Which I find the propensity to fall in love, a very lamentable trait."  Here, the princess's speech ended, and so she made her way past the two wide eyed, confused lovers and opened the door.  But before she could leave the room, Elaine asked a question.

            "How did you know where we were?  An insignificant and funny question I guess, but I find it rather pertinent.  Did you follow us?"  Elaine felt uncomfortable with the thought of being watched as she kissed the prince. 

            "No.  I would not sink so low.  My mother's old nurse, the prophetic lunatic, taught me a little magic.  More than a little actually." Rene's lips tweaked strangely, and an emotion neither the prince nor Elaine could describe passed over her face.  Elaine stepped forward, looking intently into Rene's crystal blue eyes with a storyteller's truth.  Not only did she find an honesty there that less calculating people than Rene just did not posses, but she found magic.  More than a little indeed.  Rene smiled, a real, true smile, and closed the door quietly behind her. 


	17. I'll hold you, and please, let me always

            TADA!!! This is it! The final chapter.  It's been fun and you can read the alternate ending at under the screen name fairygypsy.  I think. If not that, it's under the same title, crush, and in the fantasy section.  Although I think it should be categorized more as a romance. At least that's what my friend told me. Thank you for all of the reviews and I ask that you keep reviewing. Otherwise I have no idea if anyone is reading this!  As for the expressed interest in Princess Rene as a character, she does figure much more prominently into the other version of this story, has a much bigger part.  She is fun to write.  I'm not good with romantic stuff so I hope I did good.  Review please. Tell me where it sounds stiff or if it's any good. Tell me it sucks. Don't care, just tell me something. Thanks, fairygypsy.

  "I'll hold you and please let me always."

Prince Jon was trying valiantly to frown.  But the corners of his mouth were rebelliously pointed upward in a manner that made the newly appointed royal tutor even angrier than he already was. 

            "Prince Jonathan, this is a serious matter!  I cannot have any student of mine storming out of my classroom at any given moment in time! I will not stand for it!  I've had pages out all day looking for her and she's nowhere to be found!  Now, either you find her and bring her back to me, or I… or I'll quit!"  The tutor's face was bright red with pasty white blotches on his cheeks.  He was really very angry, but the more he yelled, the more amusing the Prince found him. 

            Tutor Rogers was a short skinny man with thinning orange hair and rabbit teeth.  He waxed poetic about his favorite authors and drooled conspicuously over his favorite court ladies.  He was a smart man, but not a very likeable one.

However, Jon knew that they couldn't lose this tutor.  He was the most lenient one they could find.  Sure, Elaine had asked for Damian, but Damian had refused, saying that he had other things to do.  But to Jon, it seemed that all Damian did was sit back and enjoy the tantrums and clashes of will that had followed the hiring of a royal tutor. 

            Elaine hadn't needed to be tutored in books or history, law or literature.  All that she had been schooled in as a girl, however she was quite unknowledgeable concerning the ways of polite society, the ways of royalty.  In truth, Elaine had no utter idea how to behave as a Princess, and in truth, had no desire whatsoever to learn. 

            Jon heard the heavy door swing slowly shut behind him as he walked down the sunlit hallway.  The smile still played at his lips and his thoughts ran to where he could possibly find a runaway gypsy princess, and how he could drag her back to her lessons. 

            "Come down from there," sternly demanded Prince Jon, trying his best to mimic the voice of the tutor.  His exclamation might have sent the new Princess tumbling backwards over the rafters if she hadn't had such good balance.  But since she did, the shock of the shattering of her beloved solitude only produced a small jump and shriek.  Which was good for them both, for Prince Jon would have been left without a fiancée.  When he realized this, he placed his hands on his hips and angrily pronounced that she should not be sitting on the very edge of the highest tower in the castle.

            "For what reasons Prince?" asked Elaine confidently.

            "Reason one: you could topple over.  Reason two: I had to climb an awful lot of stairs to find you. And reason three: you could topple over!"

            "Technically that's only two reasons," replied Elaine smoothly, with a hint of a smirk on at the corners of her mouth.  However, despite the signs of rebellion and further ledge sitting, Elaine stood up and smiled shyly at her betrothed.  "I suppose you've been sent to drag me back to my incredibly boring Princess lessons."

            Prince Jon blushed.  He wished that he wasn't here to take her back to her tutor, how horribly dull and predictable it all was!  Maybe he wouldn't take her back.  But he'd still have to talk to her. "No.  I'm not taking you back.  I trust that you had good reasons to storm from the room the way I'm sure you did."

            "Of course I did!  Just today I've sat quietly through table etiquette, titles of the court, correct eye contact.  Did you know that while in public I should never make eye contact with any one below me, and then when I make it with say, you or your father, it should be no longer than five seconds.  Did you know that!?  I didn't. And I've been all the better for it.  I certainly can not say that knowing it has helped me in any way whatsoever!"

            Jon remembered those lessons as a child. He had hated them as well, had thought then silly and purposeless.  And they were.  "If it were up to me, you would not have princess lessons.  But you know Damian and father think it important."

            "If it had been up to them, I would have been forced into marriage the moment Rene and Father took Tabitha from the castle," Elaine put a hand to her mouth as her eyes grew wide.  She was always saying stupid things.  After almost losing Jon because of her refusal to say how she felt, she found herself saying everything that came into her head.  Even when it was an incredibly stupid thing to say.  She watched as the Prince leaned quietly against a wall, broke eye contact with her, and ran a hand through his hair, bringing it to rest on his neck.   "Oh no.  I didn't mean it that way.  You know that.  You know I want to marry you."  She came to stand directly in front of her fiancée and clasped her hands behind her back.  Trying to once again catch the gaze of his dark eyes, she chewed her bottom lip and waited. 

            "I know," spoke the prince. His gypsy had been living in the castle for two weeks now.  She had left her little cottage, had left her storytelling to someone else, had left all the old comfort and solace she had once know in favor of a life with him.  And he was not going to let the fact that she did not wish to be married just yet plant seeds of doubt in his heart.  He caught her eyes and took both her hands in his own.  "Now, what is it exactly that sent you storming from tutor Roger's room?"

            "Dancing," answered Elaine sheepishly.

            "Dancing?  How could dancing possibly anger you?"

            "I don't dance.  And he wanted me to.  With him," with each forced word, her eyebrows knitted together even further and her mouth twisted into a sneer of distaste. 

            "A gypsy who doesn't dance?!  That's just not possible!" exclaimed the prince.  He was focusing more on that aspect of the problem than the one that involved tutor Rogers dancing with his fiancée.  He had never liked tutor Rogers.  "But surely you've danced before.  Around the fires with the other gypsies when you traveled with them."  She shook her head no. "As a child during the spring festivals or during the fall harvests."  Again her head answered no.  "Well, what do you have against it?" he asked, intently curious about this oddity of hers. 

            "I don't know. I've just never felt comfortable with it.  And I definitely don't feel comfortable with that little man.  I won't dance. I refuse to.  This is where I put my foot down."

            "You have to learn to dance Elaine.  Dancing is an important part of all of our main ceremonies.  You can't evade it."

            "Oh but I will," asserted the stubborn princess, pulling her hands from those of her betrothed.  Prince Jon's eyes clouded over in frustration.  She was not going to give in, he saw this.

            But then the Prince had an idea.  "What if… I taught you how to dance.  Just you and me, no one to watch."

            Elaine narrowed her eyes for a second, wondering if there was something behind this proposition.  But on further inspection of the prince's earnest expression and truthful eyes, she decided his request was innocent.  And though she thoroughly disliked the idea of dancing, she though that it might not be so bad if Jon taught her.  So she smiled and nodded her assent. "I'll agree to that," she said boldly.  "So long as I don't have to go back to princess lessons today."

            "Deal."

            "Good.  Then, what shall we do for the rest of the afternoon?"

            "I never finished teaching you to ride a horse properly. And now you'll be expected to ride side saddle when in company."  Elaine's eyebrows shot up in a look that said, 'oh really,' and turned to pull the heavy trap door in the floor open so that they could descend back into the stony depths of the castle.

            "Alright," she threw over her shoulder.  "But I won't ride side saddle today."  The Prince smiled and caught her hand before she could escape back into the shadowy tunnel below. 

            "I love you gypsy," he said tenderly, knowing full well that he would not get a reply, though he didn't need one, he knew she loved him.  It was in her eyes when she looked at him, in her voice when she spoke to him. 

            But she was always surprising him.

            Reaching up and placing both arms around his neck, she drew his face down to hers and placed a kissed softly upon his lips. If she lingered there for a second, only the prince could tell, and if a new, special smile clung to the corners of her mouth, only he saw. 

            With fingers entwined, they lowered themselves into the candlelit darkness of the spiraling tower staircase.  They forgot to close the trap door and sunlight flooded into corners where there had always been darkness and pooled around the silvery remnants of their whispered laughter. 


	18. All along the watchtower, the princes ke...

This is the beginning chapter of the sequal to crush. i know that a lot of people read and enjoyed this story, and yet I've had very few people look at Along the Watchtower. It is a continuation of Jon and Elaine's story, and also a further explanation of Rene's. It, strangely yet fittingly, keeps to the sleeping beauty theme. I hope that after reading this first chapter of the sequel, you will check out the rest of it. It is labeled as Along the Watchtower, and it too is inspired by a song sung by Dave Mathews, though it's not originally his song, I love his version of it. Review, if you are kind, and tell me of my faults and foibles and my very few literary triumphs. Enjoy!  
Fairygypsy, The Frustrated Author

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She hadn't thought she could feel. She never had before. She had really only ever felt a tingling of concern over her mother. Concern that her mother would interfere one too many times, not concern because of love. No, love was definitely an emotion beyond Princess Rene of Darwin, former heir of the royal throne. Or, as the princess surely thought, it was an emotion that was below her.

Yet today, there was emotion. And how could there not be! As of today, she was the _former _heir to the royal throne. Now the coveted position belonged to her long lost sister Princess Elaina of Darwin, or, as she was to be called from this day forward, Princess Elaina of Caraway, wife to Prince Jonathan of Caraway, future King of said kingdom.

Today, all of the kingdoms, far and wide, knew that the eldest daughter of Richard, King of Darwin, still lived, and that it was she, and not the frosty beauty who was four years her sister's junior who was to have future control of their kingdom. With a mouth set even harder than usual, and a spine that could not get any straighter, the Princess checked in on her sleeping mother. Rene had had to keep a strict watch on the woman for half a year, afraid that the revelation of Elaina's existence would prove too much for their overzealous mother who had hated her first born since conception. Queen Tabitha was sleeping a peaceful and unnaturally calm sleep, a sleep induced by herbs that were hand picked by the princess. The Queen would not be awake on her eldest daughter's wedding day, the consequences that might ensue from such a happening would not be pretty, and Rene did not feel up to cleaning up any messes her mother would most assuredly make.

Besides, Rene had made a promise to her elder sister.

The princess closed the door to her lavish bedchamber and slung herself across a golden brocaded couch. Her auburn tinted hair fell gracefully about her shoulders and a scowl marred the perfection of her exquisite face, icy blue eyes stared languidly up at the ceiling. Yet her mind was racing. Her plans had fallen apart. Strange, but the one thing that might have ruined her self made plans had been diverted, and the one thing she had never even considered as being a deterent, a disaster really, had happened, had unremarkably, and unceremoniously happened. To put it quite simply, Princess Rene was a bit upset. However, she never allowed herself to show emotion, to be ill used by the consuming and ruining qualtities of passion. Passion of any kind was abhorrent to her.

But she could not deny feeling, could it be… jealous? Was she jealous of her the woman who was to marry a most handsome man today? A most handsome man who loved her with all his heart. Rene almost laughed at the thought. Of course that was not it! She was simply feeling upset at the demise of her own carefully laid plans. Elaina had had no plans, and her life had simply fallen into place, while Rene's had deteriorated into something she despised. She'd become nothing more than a nurse, than a servant to her demented mother while Elaina was the celebrated and loved ruler of all. No, it did not sit well with Rene. After all, Elaina did not have powers like her younger sister. She did not have the realistic sensibilities! She did not have Rene's beauty, her poise, her desire for power!

Rene flung herself up off the sofa and pushed her way past a fading tapestry to the side of her giant and luscious bed. The tapestry was the only adornment in the room that did not look expensive, new, opulent. It was very simple, woven from earthy colors: beiges, tans, white and blacks. The design was unintelligible, a faded scene of chaos in tattered ruins. Though the looker would never be able to discern it's picture, there was a twisted, wicked feeling to it. It was very old, and almost steeped in the tainted souls of its past owners.

Rene brushed her way past it as if it were no more than a flimsy strip of castaway cloth from the seamstress's shop. The room the tapestry hid was dark, but, with just a flick of her wrist, Rene quickly had the small circular space lit by hundreds of tiny candles. The room was bare, gray stone, and held little furniture. There was a low, wooden table like structure jutting out from the walls and encircled the entire room. Candle sconces held flickering sticks of wax at unpatterned intervals.

Rene walked purposefully to the center of the room and dropped to a sitting position as gracefully as if she were a dancer doing some choreographed move. Her eyes were closed, her face still. She waved one delicate hand in front of her face and the air in front of her started to swirl. The darkness of the hidden room took on color and light, dimension and definition, and the forms of two elegant personages stood out amongst a throng of richly dressed people. Rene knew these people, she knew this scene…

"_You are my wife, gypsy," whispered the handsome prince. He was dressed in the stark and contrasting colors of black and white and a simple gold circlet lay upon his neatly combed and slicked mass of dark flattened curls. "Finally."_

_The new princess laughed softly at the pride and exasperation in her new husband's voice, and also at the way his curls, which did not wish to be straightened and slicked back atop his head, kept curling rebelliously around the nape of his neck and the sides of his temple. She wondered if it would be proper for a wife to smooth one of those wayward curls of his in public. She did not, however, and opted instead, to tease her beloved. "Were you impatient sir? That added 'finally' sounded as if you were ungrateful for the extended period of courtship that allowed us to become better acquainted."_

"_Better acquainted! You were my best friend before you became my fiancé, and added to that, dear lady, I felt I knew you from the minute we met. Count your lucky stars that your nasty temper that day did not expose to me your true nature, which I'm quite sure will be revealed on the morrow. As soon as we awake, you will be absolutely horrid to me, and will never be nice again until you want something, as is the way with all women." The Prince had a sparkle in his eye and a teasing quality to his voice that reminded his wife that he was just as good at teasing as she was. Should she declare defeat in this little game? _

"_Jon," she whispered as she reached her arms up around his neck and pulled her mouth oh so close to his, "do not tease me so. You know it is untrue." _

_Prince Jon smiled down at his blushing bride, wondering why she was acting so, usually she was fiery, matching his teasing banter word for word, never surrendering. He smiled down at her and pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder. He searched over her back for the three men he suspected had something to do with his bride's unusual behavior, and saw them, conspiring together in a group. The King of Caraway sat upon his throne with his most trusted advisor on his right, and the resident Princess Tutor on his left. Prince Jon frowned and pulled out of his wife's embrace. Frowning still, posed her a question: "Shall I cause a scandalous scene, or shall you?" She dropped a small yet scorching kiss on the corner of her husband's mouth before letting the most mischievous of grins creep onto her face._

Rene banished the scene before her with another wave of her hand. This time, emotion did show on her face. It raged in her eyes and pulled her eyebrows together in a scowl that would put her ancient, decrepit nursemaid Hildy to shame. The furious princess stood up and walked to a large book that lay on the curved table that encircled the room. She was about to force the book open and scream the spell within at the top of her lungs, when her eyes went fearful, the scowl unkitted itself from her eyebrows, and her lips unclenched. She would not let herself lose control. She had almost made a mistake, done something her mother would have done. And Queen Tabitha's actions were certainly not something to aspire to.

The Death Spell. How common, how unimaginative. It would have indeed been a blunder. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose slowly higher on the princess's smooth forehead as she thoughtfully thumbed through the pages of the old book. She stopped after five pages had been turned, ten spells discarded, and tapped her finger reflectively on the left hand page. This might be interesting, thought she. It did not scream danger and destruction, that was not what she wanted. No, it was subtle, and simple, and cunning, and would help her gain her own ends. She did not now know why she had not thought of it before! That was the clincher right there. It's attraction simply did not lie in the devastation it would cause, yet in it's utter usefulness to herself.

She did not wish to deny her sister her happiness. It was simply that she had a blindingly strong attraction to getting what she wanted. And if Princess Elaina of Caraway, future queen of that realm and Darwin, wife of the heir to the Darwinian throne, the woman who was simply a storyteller to herself and the gypsy enchantress Elaine to her new husband could provide herself as a tool to the attainment Rene's ultimate goals by unwittingly sacrificing her own happiness… then why not?

Rene stepped to the center of the candlelit room, flickering shadows casting wavering light and dark across her features. Closing her almost glowing blue eyes, she opened her perfectly chiseled mouth and began to chant.

Bodies change and souls expire

_Memory fades and beauty dies._

_One man honors love and right_

_Another values naught._

_One man always stands to fight_

_The other's sword is bought._

_Steal both from out the night,_

_Till in my web they're caught._

_Place them where there is no light_

_Leave them to each other's lot._

_Bodies change and souls expire_

_Memory fades and beauty dies._

* * *

Elaine fell asleep in the comforting protection of her husband's arms. He had nuzzled her hair and kissed her ear until she had fallen into a peaceful dreamless sleep, that for the first time in ages, had not been plagued by nightmares of tiny flame haired women, cold and damp enchanted chambers behind the stinging drops of a waterfall, and solitary, desolate fields of grass where vibrant green and blue met in an unearthly and unsettling manner, and where the wind whispered her greatest fears and showed her the most threatening of visions. 

Instinctively, she knew something was wrong. The arm that should be around her waist was not there; the hand that should have been stroking her side was also gone. She could not feel Jon's presence, she could not hear his heart beat, she could not feel his soft breath on the back of her neck. Of course, she had never before experienced any of this in the morning, for she had never awakened in a husband's bed before, yet she had known that was how it should have been.

And it was not. No, something was wrong.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and rolled off of her stomach and on to her back. Turning her head to the right, she spied her husband's sleeping form all the way on the other side of the bed.

But it was not her husband. Her husband was a tall man, and this man stretched out was not even taller than herself. Her husband had a very nice build, broad shoulders and a muscular back, the man whose back faced her now was broad all right, but in an entirely different manner. The arms at his sides were not lean like her husbands, but two fat sausage rolls. This man's skin was white and pasty where Prince Jon's had been smooth and tanned.

This man had yellow hair. Jon did not have yellow hair!

It took no time at all for Elaine to make these observations, and when, instantaneously, she had, she shot straight out of the bed, pulling the covers with her, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Almost immediately, two things happened. The first was that the man who had been sharing Elaine's bed shot up and gave her and then his surroundings a confused and sweeping look, and secondly, a flustered servant ran into the room.

"My lady! Princess! What is the matter?" cried the chambermaid.

All Elaine could do was to point at the man in her bed and scream at the top of her lungs. The man in her bed looked utterly bewildered. "Him," she finally uttered, pointing accusingly toward the bed. "Him!"

"What about him Princess Elaina?"

"Where is my husband! And who is this! As you can see, there is a strange man in my bed! I would think it obvious what the matter is! Call the guard! We must find Prince Jon! We must have this bastard arrested this instant!" Elaine clutched the sheet to her chest and yelled wildly at the maid. The man in the bed looked worriedly from one woman to the other, trying to decide who posed the most threat to him. He was pretty sure it was the beautiful woman wrapped in the sheet who was staring lethally at him, as if he had killed the person she most loved in the world. Had he? He really couldn't remember anything that well. His deduction about Elaine posing the most threat proved true.

"My Princess," spoke the maid calmingly, with a touch of pity in her eyes, "the man in your bed is your husband. No one need find him. He is not lost. That," she said, pointing toward the man in the bed, "is Prince Jon."

As the confusion in the eyes of the man lifted and knowledge replaced it, Elaine's bewildered eyes sparked for only an instant before turning cloudy. Her face drained of all color and slowly, and as gracefully as her sister had sunk to the stony floor of her hidden chamber, Elaine sunk to the ground, fragile eyelids fluttering down over haunted dark orbs.

We should have known, thought the chambermaid, her mother was mad too.

* * *

The room had grown cold. Remembering, he reached over to grab the only source of warmth he wished to have. His outstretched fingers rammed right into a very cold, very hard wall. 

Prince Jon's eyes flew open. His wife was nowhere to be found. Indeed, he was not even in his own bed. The protection he had known all his life of the gleaming white castle walls of his home were gone as well. In their place, was a musty, cold, dank room. A quick survey illuminated that he was in a large dinning room of some sort. The high walls were covered in armor and weaponry and where the walls met the ceiling, cobwebs hung in abundance.

Though his wife was nowhere to be found, Prince Jon was not alone. Hardly. For littering the great dinning hall were twenty or so pallets, each with a man atop them. To the Prince's disgust, some of the makeshift beds were not only occupied by what the prince knew to be the soldiers for some duke or king, but a disgraced lady. Yet from the low sounds emanating from these pallets, Jon was quite sure that the women found no shame in being disgraced.

Wherever he was, he sent a prayer of thanks to God that his Elaine was not here, that she was safe in bed, untouched by whatever evil magic was at work this night.

A man to the Prince's right interrupted his thoughts. "Cassius, would you lay back down and go to sleep? If it's a woman your lookin' for, they're all hired for the night and you know that." The owner of the rough voice shoved a rough palm into Prince Jon's chest, pushing him back down onto the cold stone floor and into the rank stench of the blanket covering him.

The Prince shot right back up, almost leaping to his feet, but thinking better of causing a stir in a room full of soldiers, no matter how indisposed they might very well be. "I am not this Cassius! You sir, will tell me where I am this very instant!" His voice was sharp and commanding, but the old man to his right only laughed.

"Don't kid young Cass. After the beating we got tonight no one's in the mood for it, least of all me. Ya hear? Be still and sleep."

Cass. He was not this Cassius. He knew he was not. He was Prince Jon, and he needed to leave, to find his way back home. But… he did feel tired, and his muscles were sore. Somehow he knew if he looked, there would be a deep cut over his right shoulder and his left eye felt swollen shut. It hurt to breath. Were his ribs broken then? He could almost remember the beating he had received that afternoon. Two men, both large and carrying weapons.

No! He screamed in his mind. He had been married that afternoon; he had been kissed, not pounded, whispered to lovingly, not beaten as bad verbally as he felt his body told him he had been physically. He had spent his wedding night in the arms of a woman who loved him, and whom he loved desperately back, not all alone in the folds of this rotten blanket.

He forced everything from his mind but the memory of her face, her smile, her eyes, and hands and lips and… and her, as she had been when she had given herself to him. With these images, he dropped heavily into sleep.


End file.
